


Come Away With Me

by hannahbbug3



Series: Come Away With Me [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rated on the Safe Side, Recovery, Slow Burn, Soft Claude von Riegan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-26 15:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 72,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30107844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahbbug3/pseuds/hannahbbug3
Summary: “Don’t cry, Dimitri,” Claude had whispered, “You’re safe. You are safe.” Dimitri had known, then, that he was real. None of his hallucinations had ever tried to comfort him. No one had ever comforted him but Claude, and Claude was here, and he was real-!In that moment, Dimitri had shattered like a broken vase filled with water. The tears ran over and they wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Like a vase, once it was cracked, everything spilled out all at once. But Claude had held him, held him and rocked him in his arms and shushed him to sleep, just like he had that night all those years ago…----After the events of Verdant Wind, a discovery made in the ruins of Shambhala changes the course of the future for a pair of runaway princes.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: Come Away With Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2225622
Comments: 89
Kudos: 74





	1. Lost

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was a survivor, and no one could contest that. Nine years ago he had survived a massacre that had wiped out his entire family, his father burned and beheaded before his eyes, his stepmother disappearing into smoke, his best friend and the knights which had been sent to protect his family burned alive and skewered and screaming. He alone had survived the Tragedy of Duscur. He alone bore the weight of those who had died there.

It was the defining moment of his life, in many ways. Up until that point, he had lived a rather carefree existence, spent his first twelve years living the spoiled, happy life of a prince with a kind father and a doting stepmother who loved him endlessly. Trained with a real knight and had friends who would someday become his retainers, but in their youth, titles had mattered little and friendship was what had counted to them. There were many moments after Duscur when he wished he could have returned to such a frivolous, naïve outlook on life. Of course, with the screams of the dead in his ears, it could never be that way. He alone had seen them die, and he alone knew their wishes for revenge, their wishes for the bastards which had killed them to atone by burning in the eternal flames. They were wishes that revisited him near every night since the Tragedy, the wails of his father and mother and Glenn reminding him that he could no longer live a life for himself. Not until their wishes were granted.

The weight of the departed had held him like a ball and chain for years, even through his days at the Academy. The dead were always lingering, always whispering reminders that his life was not his. It was theirs until he did what they wanted. In rare moments when Dimitri would find himself with his guard down, that was when they would attack. Moments which were supposed to be filled with happiness and good memories which he was supposed to keep for himself were never allowed. They haunted him, always, and there had only ever been one person who could get them to silence. Someone who had bright green eyes and sunkissed skin, who had a winning smile and a calming voice that drew Dimitri in like a moth to a flame. Only ever when he was with Claude did he forget the dead. Only ever, then.

But what did that matter, now? Especially after all that had happened since they’d parted ways?

There had been war and betrayal. Edelgard, the witch that she was, turned her back on the church, and when he had gone home to rally his forces against her, he’d found his regent killed and the evidence pointing to him. With a rushed trial supervised by Cornelia, Dimitri had been imprisoned in the castle he had once called home, chained down and alone, except for the voices. The voices which only screamed about his failure as he languished in prison, awaiting execution. Even after he had escaped and managed to flee into the wilderness, they were not satisfied. For five years he lived like a beast, killing anyone who stood in his way to survival. Imperial troops clad in red. Bandits. Even knights of Faerghus, sent out to reclaim him for that backstabbing tyrant Cornelia to hang. He had grown so used to killing that he had very nearly killed Dedue, too, when the man had found him in the ruins of an old keep, curled up in furs and growling like a rabid dog.

Dedue had hushed him. Calmed him down from his fear and anger and told him that he had been looking for him. That apparently, Professor Byleth had returned and joined forces with the Leicester Alliance and they were driving back the Empire. That, in the wake of this, the Lords of Faerghus were beginning to rebel against Cornelia’s rule and throw their lot in with Claude to rise against the Empire. That he had brought friends, who were waiting for him outside, who wished to see him again and help him win back his throne.

Dimitri didn’t know what he expected to see when Dedue coaxed him to his feet and brought him outside. But he hadn’t expected to see _everyone._ Annette, Mercedes, Ingrid, Sylvain, Ashe. Even _Felix_ was there, muttering something about how he’d known the boar was too stubborn to die. They were there, and they were ready to raise their banners with his and march to Gronder, where the stage was set for the class reunion of a lifetime.

None of them had seemed to flinch much at the frenzied smile that spread across Dimitri’s lips as he quietly whispered to the ghosts that had haunted him forever that their revenge would soon be at hand. Dimitri no longer cared for the wishes of the living. As they traveled, Ingrid had spoken to him about the status of the Lords who would rally to their side after this victory. How she was so glad that he was alive, and that she would help him claim his throne once again. Dimitri didn’t care about the throne. He didn’t care about her, nor any of the others as they rode south. All he cared about was silencing the screaming in his skull, for once and all. And as they stood over the battlefield where they would clash with Edelgard at long last, he didn’t care when Felix had hissed in his ear,

“Remember this, boar. If we die here, we’ll have died for you.”

And they had died, hadn’t they? Every single one of them, as Dimitri had run suicidal into the frenzy, ahead of reinforcements, ahead of healers, ahead for Edelgard’s neck. After all the lives he had taken, he no longer flinched when blood spattered in his face, when bones snapped in his hands. He couldn’t hear it when Ingrid was shot down, nor when Sylvain was slain. He couldn’t hear the crunch of Dedue’s bones inside his armor when he was crushed by a Demonic Beast. He couldn’t hear Felix yelling at him to turn back. All he could hear were the voices of the dead, cacophonous inside his skull. In the chaos of the battlefield, they would shriek, reminding him that every death at his hands would only weigh him down more and more until he had the head of the one who’d done _this_ to them.

He couldn’t hear anything but that, until one voice rang out over the battlefield that pierced through the noise as surely as his lance. That one voice, the only one which had ever been successful in silencing the ghosts inside his head, laid them to rest yet again as it soared above the battlefield upon the back of a wyvern.

“ _Dimitri_!”

And he had looked up, looked up just in time to see (concerned? horrified? concerned) green eyes aimed his way. Just in time to see the wyvern Claude was riding be swallowed in the black haze of one of Hubert’s spells, just in time to see him fall.

It was like a small world shattered when Claude hit the ground. Dimitri had turned around, his eye wide and his back to Edelgard. What he had planned to do next, he didn’t know, but whatever it was never came to fruition as he felt the cold slide of steel puncture his armor and slip into his flesh.

“You _idiot_!” came the roar of Felix as he rushed out of a tangle of cavalrymen nearby, cutting down the man that had put the lance into Dimitri’s back. Felix fought like a lion, clawing out left and right with a sword in each hand, but it was too little, too late. Dimitri felt frozen as he watched the armored fist of a warrior collide with Felix’s skull and send him to the ground. Unconscious or dead, Dimitri didn’t know, because then the Imperial army was upon him and the only thing he could feel as he was impaled into the ground was the bitter sting of regret.

He shouldn’t have woken up. But Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was a survivor, once again, and somehow… somehow, he had pulled through.

It was no miracle like Duscur, though. Back then, he had woken up in the arms of Gustave, spiriting him away to a healer so that his life could be saved. After Gronder, Dimitri found himself waking cold and alone, half-bare in a cell with his arms chained to the wall above his head and bandages wrapped tight around his torso. Someone clearly had treated him, wanted him alive, but to what end? Dimitri wished that he’d never lived to find out.

He was unsure how much time passed between his waking and his cell door grinding open, but when he lifted his head, his heart dropped and he flashed his teeth. Cornelia stood above him once again, just as she had five years ago when she’d told him he was going to be executed. That same saccharine smile was on her lips, and it only grew as she watched Dimitri struggle against the restraints to try and come at her.

“Oh, poor prince,” she cooed, sticky-sweet. “I’m afraid that sort of behavior won’t get you anywhere. Those chains have been specifically designed to hold you,” she’d said. Dimitri had growled and struggled and hissed as he tried to lunge at her, but not only were the chains too strong – he was too weak. Whenever he moved, he had been able to feel his injuries from battle beneath the gauze, skin tearing open again and bleeding anew. When the red had started to spread and seep through his bandages, Cornelia clucked her tongue. “Oh, we can’t have that happening,” she’d said. “Your blood is quite the commodity now, it would seem.”

Dimitri hadn’t known what she’d meant at first, but Cornelia was all too happy to explain. In fact, she taunted him with the information as mages came in and began to poke and prod at him despite his feral protestations. The mages had quickly forced an injection into his neck which made the world spin and sway around him and made his attempts to struggle feeble. They’d connected strange tubes to his arms and came at him with needles that pricked and drained him. And all the while, Cornelia told him about his new purpose, that his power would slowly be taken from him and infused into another to create a tempered blade like the world had never seen. That he would be left, forgotten in this tiny cell in this underground city. And that, most importantly, _no one_ was looking for him.

“Seems fortunate for us, in the end, that your stepmother’s wish to see you dead all those years ago never came to fruition.”

His stepmother…? Had she something to do with Duscur? And how did Cornelia know such information? His attempts at asking questions fell on deaf ears, however, and Cornelia just smiled as he tried to get his numb tongue to form speech. “Welcome to Shambhala,” she’d said to him instead. Then, the mages had uttered a spell, and Dimitri saw the tubes in his arms fill with his blood, and then the world went black.

Time passed. Dimitri didn’t know how long. They kept him drugged most of the time, and all that Dimitri could remember came in short, small flashes. Arundel visited his cell, once, he thought. But maybe that had been a fever dream. The ghosts came back, but they no longer screamed. They no longer even saw fit to speak to him, just looked at him with scorn in their eyes as he tried, and tried, and failed, and failed, to break free. The metal that bound him – Agarthium, as he came to find out it was called – was said to be unbreakable. It held even Demonic Beasts, and only a Relic could destroy it. What chance did he have, drained as he was? Even if he broke the chains, there was still the door, twice as thick, in his way. The screams that filled his skull now were his own as he tried to smash his chains and only ended up breaking his wrists in the process. The pain was his. The _wailing_ was his.

Moments of lucidity were rare. Cornelia told him that he was alone and would never be found, but that wasn’t true. Dimitri was never alone in his cell, though he could no longer distinguish between his visitors that were alive and the ones that were dead. The mages, Cornelia, Arundel, they felt real. But so too did his father, his stepmother, and Glenn. A new face even joined them, once. Felix, screaming, and it sounded so, so _real._ Felix screaming his name. Felix with his chest rent open and needles in his heart. Felix looking at him with haunted, hunted eyes. Felix _crying_ to him. Was that real, or just a nightmare? It felt like too much of a nightmare to be real, but everything around him was a nightmare.

The only constant was the exhaustion. The exhaustion and Cornelia, who came in with the mages every time to feed him drip after drip of information that tortured him to know. “Poor Dimitri,” she would say, daring to touch his face, to caress his cheek in a mockery of empathy. “Locked away and forgotten by the world. Not even loved by the only woman he ever had to call mama.” Sometimes, he swore her features would morph and change. That she would take the shape of his stepmother to torture him even more. But when reality and fantasy had already gotten so twisted up inside of his mind, who could say if that was real or just a hallucination conjured by his fucked up brain?

Then, one day, something changed to break the pattern. An explosion which Dimitri heard, even as far underground as Cornelia claimed he was. It shook his cell and interrupted his fitful sleep. Further up, far away, he could hear people. Not the voices of the dead, not the voices of his captors. Voices… voices that were supposed to be dead, but sounded so, so _real_ as the building began to crumble around him. _This is it,_ he thought. _The end._ Whether it was by being rescued, or by being killed by the mages that had held him captive, or by being crushed to death by the rubble that began to fall faster and faster, it would be _the end of this._

Then, just as suddenly as it started, the world stopped shaking. Everything went quiet. But just as Dimitri began to feel a hollow nagging in his chest, telling him that everyone was now _dead_ and had left him here alone and chained, he heard footsteps. Heard cell doors being opened, heard the voices of old friends call out in shock and horror at what they found within.

“Felix? Felix!”

That was the Professor’s voice, right across the hall. But before he even had time to process that, his own cell was being winched open and he lifted his face, blinking against the brightness of sunlight. A hole had been blown right up to the surface, he realized. And there, standing in the doorway with a halo of light cast around his brown locks like some sort of angel was…

“I’m dead,” Dimitri heard himself say. That was the only possible explanation. After all, he’d seen what had happened at Gronder. He’d seen Claude fall. _I’m dead…_

  
  
“You- you’re alive!” was the counter that swiftly reached his ears as Claude rushed for him, hands cupping his pale face, caressing his jaw. “Oh, oh my gods. Dima…”

Dimitri remembered everything after that with startling clarity which juxtaposed the stupor he had been in for ages. Claude’s voice was like a soothing balm on his mind as he brushed back Dimitri’s hair and reached for his chains. The other even moved to cover his ears when he had to call for the Professor so that his raised voice wouldn’t hurt Dimitri’s head. He had to call for Teach when he had seen what Dimitri was bound with, and she had used the Creator Sword to rid him of his shackles, and Dimitri had dropped. He thought he was going to hit the floor, but instead warm arms caught him. Claude made a quip about the Queen of Liberation to try and lighten the mood a little as he brought Dimitri’s head to his shoulder, just… holding him. Dimitri found himself wondering, as he started to drift, how long had it been since he’d been held? Since the night of the ball? Thinking back on it now, it felt like a lifetime ago…

“Rest, Dima,” Claude whispered in his ear. “You did it. You survived. You don’t have to fight anymore. Just rest.”

He didn’t want to, Dimitri remembered thinking. He tried to get his tongue to work again, his lips to form speech. _I don’t want to. What if I wake up, and you were just a hallucination, too?_

Claude must have sensed his inner conflict and panic, because his hand came back to Dimitri’s jaw, gentle and comforting. “Don’t cry, Dimitri,” Claude had whispered, “You’re safe. You are safe.” Dimitri had known, then, that he was real. None of his hallucinations had ever tried to _comfort_ him. No one had ever comforted him but Claude, and Claude was here, and he was real-!

In that moment, Dimitri had shattered like a broken vase filled with water. The tears ran over and they wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Like a vase, once it was cracked, everything spilled out all at once. But Claude had held him, held him and rocked him in his arms and shushed him to sleep, just like he had that night all those years ago…


	2. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names of Claude's wyverns inspired by the works of BuddyTheMeanPeacock. I read their works before I started writing this fic and thanks to their lovely prose, I haven't been able to think of Claude's wyverns by any other names than Sarbi and Jamshid. Thanks for the inspiration!

As Claude stood outside the closed door, tea tray in hand, he realized that he had not been prepared for this.

Now, Claude von Riegan was not a man who would describe himself as faint-of-heart. As a child called Khalid in Almyra, he’d survived two poisoning attempts, one stabbing, and one strangulation by the time he was five years old. He’d taken to sleeping with his wyverns so that no one could approach him when he rested at night, but even still, it hadn’t always been peaceful. He’d seen Sarbi bite a woman’s arm off when he was eight, and Jamshid had unseamed a man in front of him when he was ten, both times when someone else had finally mustered up the courage to try and murder the little half-breed in line for the throne.

He’d been through a war, seen his friends die. Fought beasts bigger and stronger than twenty men and seen what they could do to a human body if one let their guard down and got too close. He’d seen ordinary men turned into those monsters, screaming and flailing as their bodies were warped beyond recognition and their senses filled with hunger and bloodlust. He had seen javelins of light come screaming down from the sky and destroy everything in their wake without remorse or care. He had stood near enough to feel the heat from the explosion, and he had survived. Through all of that death and violence and the atrocities of war, he had survived.

Even still, none of that had prepared him for facing Dimitri again.

He was supposed to be dead. Two times over, he was supposed to be dead. For five and a half years, the world had thought that the Blaiddyd line had been exterminated with the Prince’s execution in Fhirdiad. The war had raged on without him, the Emperor’s vision reaching across the land bit by bit as Claude had struggled to keep the Alliance from collapsing in on itself. For a time, Claude had forgotten about Dimitri, forgotten a lot of things from their Academy days as real life caught up to him with its oppressive weight after the death of his grandfather. Or, at least, he’d tried to forget. What good did memories of tangled fingers and honest blue eyes and puppy love do for him when a war that was still raging had killed the man he shared them with? There were other things to worry about, things like an impending civil war, things like Edelgard knocking on his doorstep. He needed the past to stay behind him so he could keep moving forward, but sometimes, he’d wake up in the dead of night and wonder _what might have been if Dimitri survived._

Things had seemed hopeless for a long time. War and conflict and bloodshed consumed this continent that he’d come to call home. But through it all, there was, at least, one thing that Claude hadn’t forgotten. And, luckily for him, it seemed like the hero the world needed had remembered it, too.

A reunion at dawn in the crumbling ruins of Garreg Mach Monastery had turned the tide of the war, and now, the entire world was changed from it. She’d come back, his Teach, when the world thought she was gone forever. She’d returned from the dead and seemingly overnight the world got brighter and his hopes had seemed possible again. She had united the Alliance with Claude and together they had pressed back against the Empire. A war that had raged for five years while she was sleeping was completely overturned in just the span of a few months. When they had arrived at Gronder, Claude was a man that believed in miracles. Yet, the one that awaited him there on the Field of the Eagle and Lion had taken even him by surprise.

A blue banner had been flying over the plains to meet the red and gold that were set to clash at Gronder. And waving that banner was a man raised from the grave.

Dimitri had changed, from what Claude could tell at a distance. Gone was the refined, couth prince that he’d known in his school days, replaced by a boar of a man clad in dark furs and missing an eye. If Claude hadn’t known better for himself, he might have said that Dimitri looked like the Almyran raiders that filled the nightmares of young Alliance children. And when the battle started and Dimitri had screamed for his men to kill every last one of them, Claude had felt his heart stall in his chest. What the hell had happened to Dimitri? Where had he been while the rest of the world presumed him dead, and what had turned him into… this?

He needed answers.

Claude had done everything he could to fight to Dimitri’s side in that battle, but a clash of three armies made for a chaotic battlefield. Claude had seen the knights of Faerghus faltering and falling as Edelgard had called for her people to drive off those flying the blue banner, more concerned about Dimitri and his unyielding passion for revenge than Claude and his underhanded tactics. Claude had seen Ingrid get shot down out of the sky and fall to the ground in a crumpled, broken mess. He’d seen Sylvain run through by enemy blades trying to recover her body. He’d heard Mercedes scream as Felix ran out of range of her healing, chasing after Dimitri and Dedue as they cut a bloody path toward Edelgard.

_He was going to be killed,_ Claude remembered thinking. And, heedless of his own safety, he’d called out for him. “Dimitri!” he had screamed, and he had seen when his voice reached the other’s ears. How he stopped his murderous rampage as though he’d just collided with a wall, and how he turned, and how he lifted his head, and how he _looked_ at Claude.

He _hadn’t_ seen which side fired the spell that took him out of the sky, only felt it when Sarbi began to flag beneath him as runes gathered in the air around their bodies, dark and swirling. The world had gone black and filled with searing pain, and then they were falling like a stone towards the ground. Sarbi had survived the fall, wyverns being made of sterner stuff than pegasai, but even still, Claude had found himself surrounded by enemy archers clad in red, ready to turn him into a pincushion for their arrows. He’d scrabbled for Failnaught but his arm, which had gotten twisted in Sarbi’s harness during the fall, only screamed in pain when he tried to move it towards the legendary bow. _Damn_ , he’d thought with bitter humor as red and black spots crowded the corners of his vision. _When I first realized that Dimitri was going to be the death of me, I never imagined it would be quite so literal._

But then, she had been there again. Professor Byleth Eisner with her goddess-gifted sword had appeared from nowhere, and the panicked archers had turned their attention to her instead of Claude. Through a hail of arrows she’d persisted to his side, and in a matter of seconds, the area around him had been cleared, and he was alive, and it was thanks to her.

“Get off the field,” she had commanded him, taking a moment to wipe the blood from her sword and rush over to check on his injuries. A light healing spell had revived Sarbi, and Claude, slung across his wyvern’s back with blood oozing from his mouth, could but comply. “You are too important to Fodlan’s future to die here, Claude. Get to the rear, find somewhere safe, and hunker down. I will finish this,” she’d said. What choice did Claude have but to obey? Sarbi was already taking the order without his consent, racing towards the back lines with his wings up to cover and protect his master from further harm as Byleth once again headed into the fray, alone this time. Maybe Claude was the Leader of the Alliance, and the figurehead leading this army. But none of them would have gotten as far as they had without her.

They won that day, though Claude didn’t think any of them would call it a victory. Claude had been gravely injured from the black magic that had wracked his body, they’d lost Leonie in the fight to a charge of cavalry that had clashed into the side of her unit, and Edelgard had escaped, warped to safety by Hubert’s hand. And when Hilda had come to him in the medical tent to tend to his wounds and sit at his bedside for a while, she had told him how she’d seen Dimitri fall, a dozen spears in his back and surrounded by men that stabbed him until he no longer moved. For long while after she left, Claude laid awake in the hours he was supposed to be resting and recovering, and spent a long time wondering if this war was really worth fighting. The field was theirs, but at what cost? At what _gain_?

In the end, of course, it had been Teach to pick them all up and get them going again. Rally them all on to Merceus, and then past that to Enbarr. And then, she had been the one to take Edelgard’s head, not him. He hadn’t won the war at all. It had been her.

And it _still_ hadn’t been over. Even when they’d taken Enbarr, their work was not done. Edelgard’s final wish, penned to them in Hubert’s hand, was left to them. And it was their responsibility, as the survivors, to carry it out. Wasn’t it? Especially when it was a threat to the peace that they had already worked so hard to try and attain. So they had marched on again, to a hidden underground city built by a people that experimented in blood and warfare, a people who threatened to undermine everything that they had worked for. A people who had hurt so many of their own; Edelgard, Lysithea, and…

…and Dimitri, perhaps, most of all.

Claude still wasn’t entirely sure who the Agarthans were, or where they had come from, and that drove him a little bit mad. After all, no one hated secrets more than Claude von Riegan. What the Agarthans wanted, however, had been quite clear. Power. Power, and control over Fodlan from the shadows until “those that slither in the dark” could storm into the light of day and reclaim this land for themselves with Relics and Crests that they had, somehow, stolen from a Goddess and her children. From what Claude understood, the only reason Crests made it into the blood of Fodlan’s people had been due to the despicable work of the Agarthans. And still, they did not consider their heinous work complete. When Claude had heard Lysithea’s story, how she had been abducted as a child and experimented on, her blood taken and added to and played with until her hair turned white and she bore two Crests that would likely kill her before she reached thirty, Claude had, for once, been glad for his mixed blood that got him an upbringing in Almyra. For all the assassination attempts on his life, and all the racism that confronted him on both sides, at least… at least he didn’t have to watch siblings that he didn’t have be tortured and killed, didn’t have to suffer at the hands of mages who cared about nothing but his blood, didn’t have to live knowing that the great power in his veins would burn him from the inside out before he had accomplished anything with his life. Lysithea had been one of the experiments. Edelgard, another. And when the smoke had cleared in Shambhala and their soldiers had scoured the place for any information about these strange, horrific people, they had found more.

Dimitri. Back from the dead yet again.

What Claude could gather from the reports he’d found nearby the prince’s cell was that Lord Arundel, uncle to both Edelgard and Dimitri and a close affiliate with “those who slither in the dark” had considered the Blaiddyd Crest too powerful and unique to pass from the world. While Dimitri had been gravely wounded at Gronder, his uncle had spirited him away here, to recover and live out the rest of his days as… as a…

_Lab rat,_ Lysithea had so helpfully supplied for him as Claude had started to crumple the reports in his hands. They had planned to take his blood and fuse it with other Crest holders to see if the monstrous, bestial power could be tamed. In that regard, they had done more than _plan_ , Claude remembered. But as horrible as that was, Claude could only be glad that was as far as Arundel had gotten with Dimitri before Claude and Teach had shown up to stop him. Because… well. The reports indicated that the mages thought Dimitri was too powerful to contain forever. His superhuman strength and unstable emotional condition made him difficult to restrain. So they had found another purpose for him. After the fall of Edelgard, the Agarthans needed a new threat to inflict upon the world, and they’d planned on it being Dimitri, planned on turning him into a Demonic Beast to set lose on the continent in the hopes that his rage would turn him towards the armies who had just laid their weapons down thinking that peace was finally at hand. They were going to make a pawn of him, just as they’d made a pawn of Edelgard, and send him to kill Teach and Claude or die trying.

Claude thanked a goddess that he didn’t entirely believe in that they had gotten there first.

It had been Teach, after all, the one with the Heart of Sothis in her chest, who had ridden with Claude in the carriage back to Derdriu. She had been the one that was there to witness Claude shaken all to pieces over what they had seen in that gods-forsaken place.

Dimitri, too pale, too thin. He had bruises all over his arms and half-healed wounds on his back and chest, and yet even so, it was clear that he had never stopped fighting the people that had taken him here. The heavy bruising on his wrists was enough to tell Claude even at a glance that he had _never_ stopped struggling against the chains that bound him. And as Claude had stood there in shock, Dimitri lifted his head. He had looked up at Claude with his single eye and whispered that he was dead. Dimitri hadn’t even believed his own rescue; just how far gone was he?

Ultimately, Teach had even been the one to break Dimitri’s chains, not Claude. And as they rode in the carriage eastward over blood-stained lands that they’d fought to reclaim, Dimitri’s head on his lap as Claude ground his teeth and petted matted, golden hair, he apologized to her for grabbing so tightly onto her coattails and not letting go. She had only smiled at him in that soft way of hers, reaching over to take his hand from where it had gotten tangled trying to get a knot out of Dimitri’s hair. She did not speak of forgiveness – Claude could tell from the look in her eyes that she thought there was nothing to forgive. All she told him was that she was confident that Dimitri would live.

“He’s survived so much all alone,” she reminded him gently. “How could he die now, when he has you by his side?”

And all of that… well. That brought him to now. One week later, when he was standing outside a locked door inside his own manor in Derdriu where he had received the report that Dimitri had finally stirred, while halfway across the continent Teach was working to restore peace to a war-torn world. Maybe he should have been there, with her, Claude thought. The Leader of the Alliance and the new Empress of Fodlan working together, as they always had, to create a golden era. But then again, he knew that she could handle it on her own. After all, she had been the one to save the world – to save them all, and he would have never gotten this far without her.

She even reminded him to bring Chamomile tea with him when he spoke to her of his plans.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Claude took the key ring from his belt and unlocked the door with one hand, while the other carefully held the tray of tea and sweets against his hip as he slowly pushed the door open. Light filtered into the small room from a window facing the sea, dappling across the floor and to a bed which held a golden-haired prince, whose single blue eye was slowly blinking open. Claude mustered up a small smile and willed Dimitri to believe it.

“Hey there, your Princeliness. It sure has been a while, hasn’t it?”


	3. Waking

When Dimitri next woke, he thought that there had been some terrible mistake. He was laying on something soft, and he could feel sunlight on his face and warmth wrapped around his body. He could not smell blood. He could not hear screaming. Instead, he smelled the salt of the sea and heard the cries of gulls. There had to be some mistake. The Saints had accidentally let him into heaven by some mistake.

Then he shifted, and the aches that flared to life in his body told him that he was very much _not_ in heaven. He could feel the pull of gauze against his flesh, felt the tight hold of splints on his wrists and the dampness a soft, cool cloth which lay on his brow. This wasn’t heaven, for certainly the dead in heaven didn’t feel pain. But neither was this the torment of the eternal flames, so that left him with only one conclusion to draw.

That he was alive. Alive, and out of Shambhala.

Soon enough, the pieces came back together in his head, and he remembered what had happened. With foggy-headed nausea he could recall the mages and Cornelia and all that they had done to him. But with clarity he could recall Claude, breaking into his cell with their old Professor and setting him free. He remembered Claude holding him. Remembered Claude whispering to him that it was safe. He was safe.

All of that had been real, he realized as his eye blinked open and he found himself staring at a green ceiling. No longer was he trapped in that tiny cell with chains holding him prisoner. No longer was he a thing to be tortured and experimented on. His rescue had been _real_. And while Dimitri couldn’t be sure of where he was, or how much time had passed since then, he found he didn’t care. The only thing which he _did_ care about was-

“Hey there, your Princeliness. It sure has been a while, hasn’t it?”

Claude.

Dimitri hadn’t even been aware that the other was in the room with him, but as he came closer to full consciousness he realized that it must have been the scrape of the door against the carpet which had awakened him just a few moments ago. He slowly pushed up onto his elbows as Claude stepped further into the room, placing the tray of tea and food down on the table before turning back around to lock the door behind him. “Wouldn’t want our privacy disturbed,” he said, looking back in Dimitri’s direction and tossing him a small wink. Dimitri… couldn’t believe it. Edelgard had been so warped by the war, so set in her own vision that it didn’t matter to her how many lives she took, only that she reached her goal. And Dimitri himself knew he had changed, too. The boar had come uncaged and there was no bringing himself back from that. And yet, despite all that, here stood Claude, smiling at him and teasing as though nothing had changed at all. It was… relieving, somehow.

“I brought tea,” Claude continued, going back to the tray at the table and picking it up once again. This time, it was sat down on the endtable right by Dimitri’s bed, and as he lifted his head and sniffed, he felt his eyebrows lift. The light scent of daisies reached his nose. Claude had brought Chamomile?

“What?” Claude asked, reaching over to brush Dimitri’s hair back from his forehead. “You’re surprised I knew your favorite?” He gave a light little chuckle as he helped Dimitri sit up, adjusting his pillows so he could lean back and relax even while awake. “Well, all right, you caught me. I’ll admit it. Teach filled me in on the secret,” he continued. He turned back to the teapot, lifting it and beginning to pour as Dimitri closed his eyes and soaked it all in. The smell of the tea, the warmth around him, the crisp sea air, the sound of Claude’s voice in his ears even if he wasn’t exactly listening to what the other was saying in that moment. How could he listen? He was too busy realizing that all of this was, somehow, real.

“Dima?”

His eye blinked open again, just in time to see the concern on Claude’s face go flitting away, chased off by that easy smile of his. “There you are,” he exhaled. “You had me for a moment, there… thought I’d lost- lost you again.”

The small catch in Claude’s voice, despite the smile on his face and the comfort and relief he exuded from his eyes, told Dimitri far more than he needed to know. Perhaps he wasn’t as good at reading subtle cues as most people. Certainly he wasn’t as good at it as Claude was. But in a voice as consistent and easy as Claude’s, no matter what was going on around him, that little hiccup meant a world of information. Dimitri could hardly fathom its full meaning as he was still only waking up and processing the world around him, but it told him enough. Claude had been worried. Claude had thought he’d _lost_ Dimitri. Claude had thought he was gone.

Though, who was to say that he was wrong? As Claude went back to busying his hands with preparing tea for the both of them, steeping the flowers and chattering away about nothing, Dimitri’s mind began to wander over the past five years. _Hadn’t_ Claude lost him? He’d at least lost the person he thought he knew, back at the Academy. That Dimitri was long dead, he had died the moment the Flame Emperor’s face had been revealed, set on a course of some bloodthirsty, twisted perversion of justice instead. He had been a shell of a man, a mere beast, living only to hunt and kill to survive. And nothing had snapped him out of that. Not the sight of blood, not the crunch of bones, not the screams of those he had killed.

Nothing, until Claude’s voice called his name from the skies of Gronder.

And then, his world had shattered as his eye was opened to the destruction around him. War and all its horrors seemed to confront him for the first time since Duscur, because, for some Goddess-forsaken reason, _Claude was there._ Claude had called his name and snapped him out of it and he had seen the blood on his hands. He had seen the fallen bodies of his friends, and he had seen Felix trying desperately to come to his rescue despite the suicide mission he had led all of them on in coming here and charging forward like he had.

_“Remember this, boar. If we die here, we’ll have died for you.”_

What were they, Dimitri asked himself? Just another round of casualties to be added to the yoke of souls around his neck? No. These weren’t the victims of some senseless attack. These were… his friends. His friends, who had looked down at the battlefield and saw the odds before them and who had _still_ chosen Dimitri. His friends, who had all _died_ there for him.

How… how was the monster that he had become in any way deserving of that sacrifice? How had it come to pass that they were now dead and he was alive, laying in a soft bed with someone at his side prepared to treat him with kindness? How, _how_ did he deserve kindness, after all that had been done because of him? For what reason did the Goddess see fit for him to keep living after all of this?

“Dima.”

Claude’s voice was back, and this time, so was his hand, brushing gently across his cheekbone. “Dima, shh. Shh. The war is over. Edelgard is dead, Fodlan is unified. We are at peace. Dimitri, come outside of your head…”

It was all too much, and it was all happening too quickly for Dimitri. He had been tossed from one tragedy to another since he was just a child, and he was not yet ready to accept that it could be over. He felt like a ragdoll, a plaything in the hands of fate, and he had learned long ago that peace could not be trusted. How could he let his guard down? How could he _possibly_ think that someone like him deserved peace? Sooner or later, the Goddess would find another terrible fate for him. What would she do next? Kill him? That was far too merciful. Kill Claude?

He found himself shaking at the thought.

“Oh, Dimitri…”

Claude forgot about the tea, leaving it to oversteep on the endtable as Dimitri found himself swept up in those arms again. He at least managed to hold his tears in, this time. What right did he have to weep, to grieve? He was weak. He was a failure. After all he had done, how, how, how did he deserve to be held?

He didn’t, he decided. He didn’t deserve it. But just as he had resolved himself in this thought, just when he had been about to push Claude away, the other’s voice rose again.

It was not the first time that Claude had sung for Dimitri. Not the first time by far. So many times at the Academy Dimitri had been gifted this very song to soothe away his nightmares and his demons. And as it filled his ears again for the first time in nearly six years, he went still, and the voices inside his head went silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading this far, and I hope you're enjoying! Next chapter is going to be a long one, so brace yourselves!


	4. Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lullaby used in this chapter is "Lalae e Madar," an Iranian lullaby. You can find it sung by the artist Googoosh on Youtube.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=frgKViID5FM
> 
> Brace yourselves for a long one, there's a lot of fluff in this chapter!

_“Lalae kon, lalae kon,_

_Maman tanhat nemizare,_

_Duset dare, duset dare,_

_Mishine paye gahvare…”_

The instances in which Claude got to speak his native tongue had been few since his arrival in Fodlan. For his own safety, he’d had to hide his Almyran blood not only from his peers, but from everyone in the Alliance, as well. He’d lived as Claude for so long by now that he had almost forgotten what it was like to be Khalid. However, as he sat there on the edge of a plush bed in Derdriu, holding a shaking prince in his arms, he got to be Khalid again in a place where he never would have expected.

He had known as soon as he’d met Dimitri that the prince was _different_. At first he had assumed that it was because Faerghus was so far away from Almyra that they had never learned prejudice, because the Alliance nobles were full of it. Even Hilda, sweet as she was, spoke of the Almyrans as nightmarish figures that haunted her from her youth, and how noble her brother was to stay at the border and fight them off whenever an attack came. But the longer he stayed at the school, the more Claude had come to realize how integral prejudice seemed to be in Fodlan. Not just towards outsiders, but towards their own. From those who didn’t have Crests towards those who did. From those who did have Crests towards those who didn’t. The entire system was built on an innate hatred that Claude couldn’t stomach nor comprehend. It made him want to take a hammer in his hand and smash down the walls that kept everyone so divided, to let in everyone that was hated for being born differently and shake the world until the barriers fell down and nothing divided them anymore. He knew from the start that to hold that as his dream might leave him disappointed one day. After all, it had been such a long shot, and there were times where he truly thought it might be impossible to see it to fruition. But still, he had held tight to that dream because, just as surely as he became discouraged, almost always something had happened shortly thereafter to revive his hopes once again.

Dimitri had been one of those things. It had peaked Claude’s interest as soon as he found out that the prince kept beside him a man from Duscur, the land most hated and reviled by everyone in Faerghus. Those of Duscur blood were hated in Faerghus just as intensely as Almyrans were hated in the Alliance, all because of an event that no one had ever even been able to conclusively prove was Duscur’s fault to begin with. That event had killed Dimitri’s parents, and yet, here he was at school with Dedue in his shadow, always smiling at him and encouraging him to be his friend despite the strict standards of loyalty and guardianship that Dedue himself seemed to hold towards Dimitri. Never once did Claude hear a hateful word pass Dimitri’s lips about Duscur, about Almyra, about anyone. He even spoke with grief about bandits they fought against, because _hadn’t they just been doing what they needed to in order to survive?_ Gods, Claude had remembered thinking. This boy is far too soft-hearted to be a king.

What Claude hadn’t known back then, as he was still trying to figure out if he could trust Dimitri or not, was just how _tortured_ that soft heart had been, hidden behind that reassuring smile and calm blue eyes. His first inkling had been on a trip out late at night, hoping to break into the Archbishop’s office to try and get some snooping done, when a flash of blue had caught the corner of his gaze. Claude had thought he would be the only one out this late at night, so as he dove for cover in the stairwell and saw Dimitri pass him by on his way towards the chapel, curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he’d abandoned his planned raid in favor of following this strange prince that seemed too good to be true. He had waited in the alcove of the door leading to the second floor as Dimitri had crossed the bridge to the chapel, and waited until the prince had made it all the way across and a good two minutes after that before he crept his own way across the bridge after him. The gate had been left open and it seemed Dimitri hadn’t closed the door on his way in, which was a stroke of luck for Claude as he was able to slip quietly into the cathedral after him and hide himself behind a pillar as he saw Dimitri crouched by the altar.

The night was quiet, and there were no other noises in the chapel, but still, it had been so hard to hear the strained words leaving the quiet prince’s lips. Claude snuck closer, and closer, until he ran out of pillars to hide behind, and then he just had to lean out and hold his breath in the hopes of hearing whatever Dimitri was whispering.

“Please. Please. I just want to sleep. Please let them be quiet for one night, please, I’m so tired…”

He was… praying? No, pleading with the goddess whose likeness towered above him, looking down with stone cold eyes and ears that could not possibly hear his words. But Dimitri had looked so exhausted, and Claude was the only one that could hear him. He had never been in the business of answering prayers before, but who else was there to answer them?

So he’d done the only thing he could think to do.

_“Lalae kon, lalae kon,_

_Maman tanhat nemizare,_

_Duset dare, duset dare,_

_Mishine paye gahvare…”_

For the first few moments of his quiet singing, Dimitri had not responded. But then, his head had suddenly snapped up, and Claude went quiet for a breath as the prince looked around the chapel. Thankfully, whether it was through exhaustion or Dimitri’s own lacking perception in the darkness, Claude hadn’t been spotted, and Dimitri slowly relaxed. He looked back up at the Goddess in silence, and then, it seemed… the prince had decided not to put too much effort into questioning it.

“Don’t stop,” he had whispered, louder than before. Dimitri had known that someone was there. But he seemed content enough in letting them keep their secret identity, so long as they kept singing the lullaby. Claude breathed again.

“Please, don’t stop.” And, oh, that too-good-to-be-true prince’s voice was shaking with such desperation, how could Claude do anything but continue? He would have been heartless not to.

_“Lalae kon, lalae kon,_

_Maman tanhat nemizare,_

_Duset dare, duset dare,_

_Mishine paye gahvare…”_

The impossible had happened, then. Halfway through the song, Dimitri had slumped forward. He fell asleep on the steps to the altar. And after two more repetitions of the song, Claude had been quite sure he wasn’t going to awaken until morning when the nuns came in and found him like this.

_Good enough,_ he had decided, and silently stole his way back out of the chapel. The next day in the dining hall, he had overheard Mercedes commenting to Dimitri that he looked much more well-rested than usual, and he replied that he had taken her advice and gone to the chapel to pray. She had been so pleased and asked if the Goddess answered his prayers, and when Dimitri had smiled and responded “I’m not so sure it was her, exactly,” Claude had felt his heart skip in his chest.

It was different from anything he had ever done before. He’d done something for someone and the only thanks he had gotten in return was a smile. A stupid, silly smile on the face of a golden-haired prince who wouldn’t even know _who_ to thank. But from that night onward, Claude had kept his ear out for the sound of the prince’s boots going down the hallway. And about two minutes after they passed, Claude, too, would get up and make his way to the chapel. Sure as thunder followed lightning or the moon chased the stars, Dimitri would always be there, knelt at the altar with his head bowed and waiting for the lullaby to come to him again. And Claude would find a hiding spot while Dimitri prayed, and he would sing for him. Dimitri would sleep, and Claude would go back to bed knowing that he’d done something irrevocably, irresponsibly _good._

For all he could tell, Dimitri never tried to figure out who visited him those nights in the chapel, and Claude was content enough with him never knowing. But then there had come the night of the ball. There had been dancing and laughter and enough merriment for everyone to sate themselves upon without the good food being involved at all. Claude had even gotten up the nerve to get his Teach to dance with him, and if that hadn’t set rumors in the room aflutter, he didn’t know what would. Lorenz and Hilda, at least, would have something to talk about for the next few weeks beyond politics back at home. And yet, as Claude had come off the dance floor and Byleth excused herself – only to be swept away instead by a tittering Manuela – something in the room hadn’t felt quite right. Claude didn’t know what it was for the longest time, but his instincts had never steered him wrong before.

So he looked. He looked for that something off which would tell him why his gut had started to pinch and tumble. It wasn’t until he saw Dedue standing alone at the punch bowl that he realized what was wrong. He double-checked the pairs of dancers on the floor just to be certain, but it only took a glance around the room to affirm that he was correct. Dimitri was gone.

Claude had headed for the chapel without hesitation. He crept across the bridge as always and slipped silently into the cathedral. When he saw Dimitri wasn’t at the altar, he felt his heart sink. But… why? Why would his heart do a foolish thing like that? It wasn’t as though they had an arranged meeting time. Why should he have expected Dimitri to be here? Hell, for all Claude knew, he’d just slipped off to the bathroom and was already back at the ball, where Claude, too, was supposed to be. He exhaled through his nose and turned to go, when he noticed the side door of the chapel was slightly ajar.

The door that led to the Goddess Tower.

Now, Claude had been a newcomer in Fodlan before all of this, but even he had come to know the legend of the Goddess Tower by the time for the ball arrived. How could he not hear about it? Hilda had been all aflutter at the idea, the sheer romantic-ness of it all. The idea that two people who made a promise to one another on the steps of the Goddess Tower would be bound forever, how wonderful! Claude hadn’t thought it nearly as much so. Being bound to _anyone_ was a terrifying thought. It was a vulnerability to be exploited, and nothing more. Claude had learned long ago to never be vulnerable.

And yet, he still found himself walking towards that door and pushing it open. When he saw golden hair reflecting the silver moonlight, he gasped audibly.

_No way._

And then Dimitri had turned, and their eyes had met, and it had taken every single ounce of courage in Claude’s body not to turn tail and run like a startled deer. But there was something arresting about Dimitri’s eyes in the soft light, something that held Claude in place like a spell, until, finally, Dimitri broke it with his voice.

“I… was not sure you would come,” he had said softly as Claude stood there, eyes wide. Even though Claude had been the one who knew he would find Dimitri here, it almost seemed as though Dimitri hadn’t expected anyone else, either. “You… you didn’t have to come, you know. There’s… the party, and I’m certain if either of us are away for too long someone will notice, and…”

Gods. Did Dimitri know how much power he had over Claude with cheeks as rosy and embarrassed as those? Seeing the other boy’s nervousness was the only thing that had been able to unfreeze him, and slowly, Claude took a step forward past the door, turning to gently close it behind him. It wouldn’t do for anyone to disturb their privacy, after all. He held onto the handle tightly to gather himself and breathed deeply before he turned around. There was an easy smile on his face as he pivoted, folding his hands behind his head as he strode toward the blushing prince.

“Nah,” he said as nonchalantly as he could manage. “You know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

In just a moment, he was standing before Dimitri, looking up at him. Why had Claude never noticed just how tall he was? With a start, he realized that it was because he’d never been this close to Dimitri before. Even when Claude had been at his closest to the prince, Dimitri had always been kneeling. To be so near, now, looking up into blue eyes that screamed of so much honesty, it rattled Claude to his core. Lies and deception were what Claude knew. They were what had kept him alive in this cutthroat world of nobles. How had someone with eyes like _Dimitri’s_ ever survived it?

“…it is you, isn’t it?” Dimitri had dared to ask. His lips had barely moved with the question, and had Claude not been standing so close, he might have convinced himself that he had only imagined it. But Dimitri gathered his courage and pressed on with the question. “You are the one that comes to sing me to sleep at night.”

Claude lowered his hands back to his sides, transfixed by Dimitri’s eyes. For a long moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond. He hadn’t been this off his game in years, and yet, there was something about Dimitri. There always had been. Dimitri took his silence as agreement, Claude realized, because the blush on Dimitri’s face deepened and he was no longer able to hold eye contact. “You… don’t have to-”

“Hey,” Claude finally spoke up as he found his voice once again. “I just told you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. Tonight, or any other night,” he said. Something seemed to break in Dimitri’s expression as he heard those words, and his gaze snapped back to Claude’s face, studying him with sharp scrutiny. Claude molded his features to his best impression of honesty, but it did not seem to fool Dimitri.

“I can never tell when you are lying, and when you are speaking the truth,” he confessed. “You- Claude,” he started shakily. “I do not know what to make of you. Ever since we met, I could tell that you had secrets. Secrets upon secrets upon secrets. Don’t you?” he asked, and Claude felt himself swallow instead of responding. That was fine. Dimitri didn’t give him a chance to speak, anyways. “You frightened me when we met. You reminded me so much of people in my court who didn’t know I heard them whisper about deposing me. You speak such kind words to everyone’s face but your smile does not meet your eyes…” Claude wanted him to stop. “And I see you around the monastery. I see how everyone is drawn to you, like a moth to a flame, but you hold everyone at arm’s distance. There is no one here who can truly call themselves close to you. There is no one here who knows you _at all_ , is there?”

Claude found his hands shaking and felt sweat break out on the back of his neck. Never before had he been so utterly _stripped bare_ by words alone. By some miracle, however, Dimitri seemed to realize that he was starting to push it. And before Claude could turn and run away, Dimitri caught his hand in both of his own and held it oh so gently. Dimitri was _touching_ him. Claude let _no one_ touch him, and now these hands which he had seen snap training lances in half with ease were holding his own, and for some _Gods-forsaken reason_ , he felt himself _breathing_ again.

“Claude,” Dimitri asked softly. “What… what does it mean?”

“What does what mean?” he asked. Nice one, Claude, he had scolded himself, eyes squeezing closed for a moment as he winced internally.

“Your lullaby. What do the words mean?”

Slowly, his eyes blinked open again. He had been so, so content to never let Dimitri find out who sang him to sleep at night. Claude had been content for it to remain a secret forever, because when he came to the chapel at night and sang, he didn’t think he was Claude. He was… he was pretty sure that was Khalid.

“Claude?”

“It is… it is an Almyran lullaby,” he heard himself confess. “The words do not translate well into the language of Fodlan, exactly, but it means something like… sleep tight, I am watching over you,” he explained. Dimitri hummed softly and nodded once.

“I think I like it better in your language,” he replied quietly, and Claude’s eyes had gone wide.

“In my- oh, no no, _no_ , your princeliness, you’ve got something very wrong here, there’s no way that I- I mean, how could I be, Almyrans are evil-”

“Don’t.”

Dimitri’s hands were against his face, then, holding his jaw as he cut off Claude’s pointless stammering. And there in Dimitri’s gaze, Claude found only acceptance and understanding. Claude could do nothing but stand in the wake of it and _shake_ , because how, how on earth… _who_ had authorized this? Who had decided it was _okay_ for someone as pure and honest and accepting as _Dimitri_ to exist?

Dimitri had held Claude- Khalid- had held him, and when he spoke again, it was soft and reassuring. “The reason I come here at night is because I have terrible nightmares,” he spoke. “Four years ago, when my family was slain, I could feel their souls latch onto me. Even to this day, they haunt me. They are angry. They desire revenge, and don’t want me to rest until I find out who it was that killed them and bring them to justice,” he confessed. “Sometimes their voices get so loud that I cannot sleep. I have constant headaches, I am exhausted so much of the time, and there are days where I can barely focus at all to begin with…”

Claude realized, in that moment, just what Dimitri was doing. He was exposing a vulnerability. Sharing a secret with him, so that Claude would feel safer, knowing that Dimitri knew his. He felt his trembling cease, and he just listened.

“The first time I came here to pray, I didn’t know what I wanted to happen. The Goddess has always been so deaf to me that there are times where I wonder if she wants me to suffer because I didn’t die with them; my parents, and everyone else… and it is always so, so _loud_ inside of my head. Voices that are supposed to be dead, screaming at me all the time. Nothing can make them silence. Nothing. Nothing, except… except your lullaby,” he whispered. “That is the only thing. It is the only thing which has ever _worked,_ and when I first heard your voice inside the cathedral, I thought you were an angel.”

For the first time in a very, very long time, Claude did not know what to say. Dimitri’s hands had moved from his face to his shoulders, holding him steady as that blue gaze pierced right past all his defenses and looked into his very soul. “No one with a voice like that could be evil, Claude. Not someone who returned night after night to answer prayers that the Goddess wouldn’t, and yet never asked for anything in return. I believe that with all of my heart,” he confessed. Claude could feel Dimitri’s hands trembling where they held his shoulders, and slowly, Claude had reached up to remove them, if only to hold them in his own, now.

“This is… our secret,” Claude finally said, squeezing Dimitri’s hands tight. “These nights are our secret, Dimitri. Do you know how to keep one?” he asked, a familiar grin tugging one corner of his mouth upwards. Dimitri had laughed, then, a sound which Claude had never heard before. It was as clear and beautiful as a ringing bell, and Dimitri had tipped his head forward to press his forehead against Claude’s. For a moment or two, they breathed the same air. Then, Dimitri was pulling away to nod.

“A secret. I vow it. Your secrets will always be safe with me,” he said, and Claude knew the weight of that promise. Here they were, after all, standing on the steps of the Goddess Tower. “If I could have one selfish request, though, Claude…” he began, and Claude quirked his eyebrow, curious. “Perhaps, the next time I need a lullaby, maybe I could knock on your door instead of coming to the chapel?”

Oh, gods. Dimitri was going to be the death of him, with those too-honest eyes and blushing cheeks and his pleading, puppyish look. He smiled. “It would save us both a trip, wouldn’t it?” he returned, and Dimitri’s features broke into a smile again. “Don’t see why not, your princeliness.”

“What if… what if I asked for that to happen, tonight?” Dimitri had asked, brave. Now, Claude was the one reaching up to cup his hands against Dimitri’s cheeks. _It could all be a trick,_ something in the back of his mind said. _Shut up,_ he said back to it. _Just look at those eyes! Not even I am skilled enough to fake something like this_.

“I would say yes,” Claude responded. He had held out his hand. “Come away with me, Dimitri.” The two of them had scampered back across the campus grounds like… well, like a couple of schoolboys. They found themselves in Claude’s room and, by all that was holy, was Dimitri ever adorable. How his expression lit up, how his entire self seemed to glow in excitement at the concept of just being _rocked to sleep_ , heaven preserve this boy and his innocence, Claude had demanded.

If only heaven listened.

It hadn’t been long after that when things started to fall apart. Remire village. Jeralt’s death. Teach’s transformation. The Flame Emperor unveiled. Claude did not see Dimitri nearly as often as he had wished. He found himself waiting up at night for a knock to come, or for boots to pass his door and head for the chapel. But it never happened. In fact, Claude was quite sure that Dimitri didn’t spend a single night in his room after the attack on the Holy Tomb. For the last month of the school year, Claude was powerless to do anything but watch as that sweet prince who had asked to come to bed with him in front of the Goddess Tower became unhinged. And then, the Monastery had fallen, and they had fled their separate ways, and the next thing Claude knew, he was receiving word of Dimitri’s execution. As fast as their spark kindled, it had died.

At least, that was what he’d thought for so long. But, if there was a Goddess in heaven that listened at all on the nights when Claude decided he would pray for a miracle just for the hell of it, it seemed that she had deemed fit for them to have a second chance.

The Dimitri he held in his arms now felt small and broken. For five years, he had wrestled alone with demons that no one but he could see. Then, he had been plucked from the middle of a battlefield and been taken to a horrible place, where horrible things had happened to him, and he had been told he would never see the light of day again. Was it any wonder that he was shaking so badly now?  
  
  


_“Lalae kon, lalae kon,_

_Maman tanhat nemizare,_

_Duset dare, duset dare,_

_Mishine paye gahvare…”_

Claude could only hope that it still worked, even after all this time.


	5. Safe

This was the voice of an angel. There was no doubt about it in Dimitri’s mind that what he heard was the voice of an angel. Claude’s arms were wrapped around his shoulders, strong and reassuring, rocking him back and forth, back and forth, and the thoughts in his head went quiet. In the empty space where there was usually screaming, there was only the voice of his angel, echoing like it had in that quiet cathedral all those years ago. He could hear nothing else. Feel nothing else. Just Claude, and he wanted it to remain that way forever.

But eventually, the lullaby ran out of words, and Claude slowly drew back. Dimitri flailed, trying to catch Claude’s shirt and drag him back in, but his fingers were clumsy and his arms ached to move. He wasn’t able to grab him, but Claude got the message anyways and drew Dimitri back in.

“Shh,” he whispered, rocking him once more. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe. Do you want more of the lullaby?” he asked, but Dimitri shook his head. Claude wasn’t leaving. His head was quiet. He was safe. It was okay. He was going to be okay.

Slowly, very, very slowly, Claude loosened his grip, easing Dimitri back onto the pillows and offering him a weak grin. It didn’t reach his eyes. But it still seemed honest enough. Claude wasn’t smiling because he was happy. He was smiling to reassure Dimitri. Gently, he took the damp cloth from where it had fallen down onto Dimitri’s pillow while he’d been rocking him. Dimitri watched as he got up and crossed the room to where a bowl of fresh water lay underneath a mirror and wet the cloth again. Wringing the excess water back into the bowl, he returned swiftly to Dimitri’s side and settled it back upon his brow.

“Are you still tired?” Claude asked, the façade of cheerfulness he’d come into the room with gone, replaced only with concern. “You’ve been sleeping for quite a long time, but after all that’s happened to you, I can certainly understand it. Still, if you could eat something while you were awake, it would put us all at a little more ease about your condition…”

At first, Dimitri shook his head at the prospect of food. He didn’t know how the Agarthans had kept him from starving to death, but he certainly didn’t remember them feeding him. One of those injections, maybe. But his stomach had been empty for so long now that it was used to feeling that way. He didn’t feel hungry in the slightest. Part of him was even worried about what might happen if he tried to put food in his body after all this time without.

“Please?”

Dimitri knew about the effect his eyes had once had on Claude. Claude had told him, that one time when they’d fallen into bed together, that he had never seen eyes so honest, and that there was something so _powerful_ in Dimitri’s gaze that had so much more in it than strength alone. Claude found his eyes arresting, gorgeous, remarkable, and wholly unique.

Dimitri couldn’t remember, now, if he had ever told Claude just the sort of effect that Claude’s eyes had on him. Like everyone, Dimitri could be easily taken in by Claude’s natural charm. He had this way of navigating a conversation that spun everyone to his side, even when some of them were well aware that they were being manipulated. But there were rare times, incredibly rare times, when Claude peeled back the mask and let his real face show, and Dimitri had never seen anything more beautiful than the trust that had been displayed in Claude’s emerald eyes when he dropped his guard. Dimitri had only seen it twice before now. Once, that night on the Goddess Tower. Twice, when Claude had pulled him from his cell in Shambhala. He wondered if anyone else had ever seen it, or if this was a face that Claude only wore for him. Regardless of that, he was seeing Claude’s real face for a third time now. Claude’s expression was open with worry written all over his features.

“Dima,” he spoke. “Please. You’ve survived so much. Don’t give up on it now,” he said. He reached over to the tray of tea and snacks, and when he turned back to Dimitri, he had a bowl of soup in his hands. “Don’t go dying on me now. I won’t allow it.”

When Dimitri had still made no move towards the food, Claude exhaled, and the worry on his face was replaced with something like determination. “All right, fine. If you’re going to be stubborn, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

And then, faster than Dimitri could blink, the spoon had gone from the bowl into his mouth, tipping broth down his throat as Dimitri spluttered in shock. He lifted his bruised arms again and made a motion like he was going to push Claude away, but Claude stilled him with a firm gaze and a quiet hiss.

“Don’t you _dare._ ”

Logically, Dimitri knew that he was stronger than Claude. Even in his weakened state, he was quite certain that the power his Crest imbued him with would have given him the strength to toss Claude across the room, if he so desired. But Claude looked at him like _that_ and Dimitri knew that there would be no winning for him in this matter. His arms fell back to the bed, and Claude smiled, and the spoon was brought back to his lips once again. Claude waited with a quirked brow, and when Dimitri complied and opened his mouth, he thought that the smile Claude gave him would make any nausea he felt after this worth it. Claude fed him, chattering at him as he did so. He spoke about everything and nothing at all to fill the silence. Even now, he seemed to remember the effect his voice had on Dimitri’s scarred mind. And he didn’t allow even a second for the demons to creep back into it.

When the bowl emptied, Claude turned away, and Dimitri thought he would leave. He’d _leave,_ and gnawing anxiety built in his throat at that thought. But Claude returned to his side yet again, shuffling out of his shoes and lying down atop the blankets right beside him. Dimitri managed to work up a questioning sound from the back of his throat, and when Claude looked at him, his eyes were soft.

“Singing you to sleep, Dima,” he said. He pulled Dimitri’s head to his shoulder and stroked his fingers through his hair, scratching softly against his scalp. Dimitri heard himself whine, low and longing, like an old, abused hound as he slowly settled into Claude’s side. Claude heard the noise and whispered to him gently. “Hush, little lion,” he said. And then Claude sang his lullaby.

Dimitri thought back to that night, where they’d stood together on the steps of the Goddess Tower. Promised to keep each other’s secrets safe, and Claude had given him the permission to seek comfort at his door whenever he needed it. They’d gone to bed together that night. It had been the only time. Dimitri had never been brave enough to knock on Claude’s door again, in the end. Still, the memory of being held in his arms, rocked to sleep, petted and praised and comforted and cherished, burned in his memory now as it happened all over again like no time had passed at all. Claude was still here. And he was making good on his promise, and Dimitri… Dimitri found himself whispering words that he had never been brave enough to do so back then. Now he was too desperate to hold them back.

“Don’t… go.”

Claude paused for only a moment, his hand stilling and his gaze shifting as he turned to look at Dimitri’s face to affirm that he really had spoken. It had been the only thing Dimitri’d said since waking up here, and from the look on Claude’s face, he could hardly believe he’d spoken at all. But then, his green eyes were back to being so, so soft, like they were only for him. Claude nodded, and Claude petted him.

“Never,” he promised. “Never. Now, rest, Dima.”

He closed his eye slowly, and he wondered if he imagined the press of warm lips to the top of his head as he started to drift. He was content in not knowing as Claude sang softly, and Dimitri slipped into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that a kiss? :')
> 
> Another short chapter, but it'll be the shortest one for quite a while! There will be a long one from Dimitri's perspective soon!


	6. A Good Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes another long one!

The Lords of the Round Table had never exactly been the easiest bunch to deal with. After five years of running the Leicester Alliance, Claude knew that well. Still, he hadn’t imagined so much resistance would meet him when he proposed his plan to the geezers sat around the table.

“I simply do not see why we should unify our nation under one banner under that woman. You yourself even admit to being unsure of her origins, Leader Riegan. How can we be positive that this is the best thing for the future of the Alliance? Should we not simply keep our independence and sign a treaty, instead? You say we can trust this Empress Byleth, but what about the future children of her line? As we have just learned from the Adrestian Empire’s example, all it takes is one bad egg to ruin the bunch.”

Claude was fighting the urge to bury his head in his hands and scream in frustration as Margrave Edmund went on and on upon the same platform he’d stood on for every meeting since the end of the war. When Claude had first thought about telling the Lords that he was dissolving the Alliance so that Fodlan could be whole again, he had figured it would be Count Gloucester who would give him the most trouble. Fortunately for him, the old man had abdicated his position to his son, and by some miracle, Claude had found that Lorenz was in his corner. His violet-haired retainer was speaking up for him even now, a frown on his face.

“You must understand, father-in-law, the further divided that Fodlan is, the greater the potential for future conflict to arise among its leaders in days yet to come,” he said. “Our chosen leader is not only the hero that led us through the war, she is the Chosen of the Goddess. Her heirs will certainly be of the same noble blood should she choose to pass the crown on to them, but as we have already discovered from learning that Archbishop Rhea’s true identity was none other than Saint Seiros, it is quite likely that our Empress’s reign of peace will last well beyond our own lifetimes,” he said.

“And what if, one day, she should become corrupt? Can we really trust our futures to a single individual who is so powerful that none could dare oppose her should she become a tyrant?” the Margrave questioned, a stern frown upon his face.

“The power she holds is none other than the gift of the Goddess Sothis. Their souls are bound together by magic far beyond what any of us mere mortals possess. Do you really mean to imply that the Goddess might be wrong with her choice?” Lorenz countered.

Honestly, if Claude didn’t know his Teach the way that he did, he would have questioned it just as much as the Margrave. After all, in Claude’s mind, what was it that really made gods and goddesses so special? Just that they had so much more power than humans did? If Rhea was to be made an example of, she had more than proven that the Children of the Goddess were not infallible. She had used her position of power to see to fruition her own selfish wish to bring back her mother. Claude didn’t know if he trusted any higher power, let alone a Goddess that lived inside of his Teach. But he _did_ trust his Teach, so if playing the religion card was what was needed to get the Margrave to shut up for a while, then Claude had no qualms with it at all. He, in fact, felt a surge of satisfaction as he watched the Margrave squirm in his seat while the other Lords shot dirty looks in his direction for his blasphemy.

“Even so…” the man started up once again, and Claude exhaled deeply through his nose, but a knock at the door and a gentle voice calling inside saved him from sitting through another round of the man’s drivel.

“Um, Claude?” came the soft voice of Marianne as she peeked into the room. “I’ve come to tell you that Prince Dimitri is awake again. And he, um, asked for you,” she said. Margrave Edmund frowned at his adoptive daughter, giving her a firm shake of his head.

“Daughter, we are in the middle of quite an important discussion. You can tell the prisoner that he will have to wait,” he said, but Claude was already standing up.

“Really, Edmund, I do believe we’ve all heard enough of your protests. Your position has been made quite clear, and so has mine. You cannot filibuster these meetings forever,” he said, crossing his arms. “In fact, I believe it best that we call it an evening. Let the other Lords make a decision for themselves with their heads free and clear of your voice, how about that?” he asked. Claude felt a small surge of pride when he saw Lysithea, the newly appointed Lady Ordelia, hiding a smile behind her hand. Claude and Lorenz weren’t the only ones tired of the old man’s protestations.

“I agree,” she spoke up, inclining her head slightly to Claude. “It’s been quite a long day. We can continue these discussions later. It isn’t as though we don’t have time,” she said, to which the other Lords nodded. Peace afforded them the luxury of mulling things over, even if Claude wished he had some pressing deadline instead to use as a motivation for the Round Table to reach a unanimous decision. At this point, Claude was thinking about starting a motion to get Margrave Edmund removed from the table and calling House Daphnel back into the circle. He was certain with Lorenz, Lysithea, and Judith on his side, he’d be able to sway the rest without any further issue.

Such thoughts would have to wait at least until tomorrow, though. The meeting was called to a close and Claude made his escape down to the kitchens to fetch tea and food for his prisoner of war, Dimitri.

As a prisoner had been the only way he’d been able to assure the other Lords (read: Margrave Edmund) that Prince Dimitri had no special political power here in Derdriu. Faerghus had fallen and Empress Byleth had already assumed control of those lands which once made up the Kingdom. With the support of her new husband, she’d won the remaining Lords over to her side and gotten them to pledge fealty to her, and the shift in power was going quite smoothly. Claude was jealous of her, honestly. He wished that things were going just as smoothly here in the Alliance, but the war had just ended. There were still anxieties to soothe, a world to rebuild. And the last thing anyone wanted now was for Prince Dimitri’s survival to spark another civil war with those who wanted him back on the throne.

So Dimitri was, technically, Claude’s prisoner. He really doubted Dimitri knew that, though. At the very least, Claude hoped Dimitri didn’t feel like a prisoner when he basically had Claude wrapped around his little finger. Dimitri was tended by the best healers that Claude knew – which meant Marianne. He was given a room with a view, where the breeze blew in off the sea and fresh air could reach his lungs. He had tea with Claude, and he had slowly started down the path to recovery. The only real thing that defined him as a prisoner, in Claude’s mind, was that the door to his room was kept locked and only Claude and Marianne had the key to get inside. But Claude was not stupid. He knew that Dimitri’s Crest gave him more than enough power to bust down a wooden door if he had wanted to leave. The locked door was not meant to keep Dimitri in. It was meant to keep out anyone that might wish him harm. Assassinations had been a concern for Claude since he was a baby. Dimitri, too, had his fair share of people who probably wished him dead. Even though they’d destroyed Shambhala, after all, they didn’t know just how many other underground cities there might be, how many more Agarthans might come slithering out of the shadows even still to try and ruin the peace that they had worked so hard to build.

All of that, though, was not Claude’s concern at the moment. It had only been three weeks since they’d pulled Dimitri and Felix from the ruins of Shambhala, only two since Dimitri had first awakened in Derdriu. In all that time, Dimitri had remained near mute, only whispering a few words here and there to Claude when there was something he wanted to say that he could not possibly contain within him. When Marianne had said that Dimitri asked for him, Claude really doubted that it had been done with words. Marianne called it worrying, citing herself as an example. She had used her own silence back at the Academy to conceal thoughts of guilt and anguish from the world around her. She said that, now, when she looked into Dimitri’s face, she saw too much of herself for her own liking. It had only been through a hard re-evaluation of herself and the help of her friends and the love of Lorenz that she had ever managed to pull herself from the depths of depression, but even still, she was unsure what might help reach Dimitri and pull him out of the clutches of his own demons. All they knew for now was that Claude helped. Claude helped him so very, very much.

So Claude once again found himself with tea tray in hand, wafting the scent of Chamomile wherever he walked as he took the path from the kitchens up to Dimitri’s chambers. He unlocked the door and pushed it open with his hip, eyes immediately going to the bed where Dimitri was always waiting for him. Only- he wasn’t there. The room was small enough that it only took Claude a moment to see that Dimitri was up, sitting at the table and staring out the window as he waited for Claude to arrive. When the prince turned to look at him, Claude couldn’t help but beam.

“Dima!” he exclaimed, hurrying forward to put the tray on the table so his hands were free to cup Dimitri’s cheeks. “You’re out of bed!”

Dimitri, apparently, had not expected his moving around to elicit such a reaction, if the surprise on his face was any tell. He gave a small nod, and Claude leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Dimitri’s. “I’m so proud,” he said softly and shifted to press a warm kiss to the Prince’s forehead, only pulling away when Dimitri started to blush and squirm. The Prince had lived through horrors. But that only made Claude all the more happy to see these soft moments where Dimitri still got flustered, still blushed, still didn’t know what to do with himself in the light of Claude’s affection.

“Let me just get the door,” Claude said, getting the key ring from his belt once again and turning to lock the door behind him. “Wouldn’t want our privacy disturbed,” he said, as always. Dimitri nodded once, sitting with as good posture as he could manage, arms lightly resting on the table. When Claude returned, he surreptitiously looked the prince’s arms over. Besides the near-fatal stab wounds he’d received on his back and chest from Gronder, his arms had borne the most abuse from his time in Shambhala. Marianne’s healing had worked wonders for both, however. Although Dimitri’s wrists were still splinted, the broken bones were slowly on the mend. The dark bruises he’d worn like sleeves were gone, and his torso no longer sported open wounds. He was healing, physically. Claude only wished that there was healing magic which could reach his mind and the torment caged inside of it just as easily as Marianne’s touched his skin and soothed away his pains.

Hopefully, the tea would help.

Claude poured them both a steaming cup while he was still standing, placing Dimitri’s cup down in front of him first as he arranged the traditional sweets on the table along with their dinner. Dry roasted pheasant in berry sauce was the meal for tonight, but just in case, Claude had brought a bowl of fish soup up with him, as well. Sometimes Dimitri didn’t feel like eating. But always, Claude could get him to if he held a spoonful of soup to his lips and said ‘please.’

All signs pointed to this being a good day, however. Not only was Dimitri out of his bed, but he had already wrapped his hands around his cup of tea and started to sip at it while Claude set the table. Claude put Dimitri’s plate in front of him, the food already cut into bite sized chunks for the both of them. Claude had done that himself, down in the kitchens. He knew that Dimitri wasn’t a baby and could cut his own food, but with his wrists still on the mend and the Prince’s already notorious trend when it came to him sometimes rejecting meals, Claude didn’t want it to be any harder than it already was for Dimitri to eat. So he’d cut Dimitri’s pheasant and his own before he’d ever come upstairs. It was much easier to pretend that this was just how the kitchen served their food rather than letting Dimitri think Claude had done it for him. He had never imagined that he would find himself in the position of being someone’s caretaker. But he prided himself on a diligent mind that thought through every variable and mitigated it to the best of his ability to bring about the resolutions he wanted. Years ago, when he had started the thankless work of answering Dimitri’s prayers, he had never imagined that continuing to do so would become almost a full time job. He wasn’t in the business of thankless work, after all.

But Dimitri _wasn’t_ thankless. Maybe there weren’t any strings he could pull with the warmth in Dimitri’s gaze, or ambitions to be served by seeing the prince starting to eat all on his own, but it still felt like winning one of the hardest battles of his life when he was able to sit down at a table with Dimitri at the start of an era of peace. There was still so much work left to do. Winning over the Lords, unifying Fodlan. Not to mention his ambitions for Almyra that he’d barely started greasing the gears for. But as he sat there, sipping tea in silence with this too-good-to-be-true prince alive and at his side, the world on the other side of the door ceased to exist. The Lords would come around, and Almyra had already waited this long for him. It could wait a little longer.

Dimitri ate at an even, steady pace. Claude knew that he would likely do so even if he was starving, the prince was so wrapped up in self-restraint that it had become a habit, by this point. Claude was aware that there was something feral inside of Dimitri that he kept caged. He’d seen it run loose at Gronder, and heard stories from the few surviving members of the Blue Lions that chilled him when he tried to meld together the image of the soft, broken prince in front of him with someone that wielded the power, ferocity, and mindlessness of a Demonic Beast deep down. Mercedes especially had been horrified by the transformation of her friend, and Annette’d had to hold her hand through it as she tearfully told Claude what she had seen of Dimitri after it was revealed that he was still alive. Ashe had given him all the credit when it came to snapping Dimitri out of it. He’d seen from the rear of the field how Dimitri had suddenly ceased his rampage when Claude called his name. He’d described it as being like the counterspell to break a horrible curse, like something that he had once read in one of his fairy tales. Claude really doubted it was so simple. Life wasn’t a fairy tale, and while he may have stopped Dimitri on that day, he had every reason to think that Shambhala and what he had suffered there was what had really caused him to retreat so far into himself, becoming quiet, docile, and tame once again. He wasn’t a terrifying boar on the loose, ready to gore everything in his path. But neither was this the Dimitri Claude had seen that night at the Goddess Tower, expression so open and honest and vulnerable and accepting of everything that Claude was, despite the way the world had wanted to hate Claude for it. A Dimitri that yearned for comfort and acceptance and kindness in equal measure as he showed it towards everyone else. Claude wanted to see _that_ Dimitri again. Not this empty shell of a man who went through the motions of living just because Claude asked him to.

Today, though, was a good day. Dimitri seemed less like a shell and closer to being a person while he wasn’t cocooned in the soft blankets of his bed, laying there meek and quiet. He was _up,_ he was eating, he was meeting Claude’s gaze whenever Claude sought his out and maybe he wasn’t smiling, yet, but he seemed content. And when it was _Dimitri_ that interrupted the quiet of the room with his voice, Claude felt his heart _soar_.

“I have… stunned you into silence,” Dimitri murmured. Claude broke into a smile.

“Yes… yes, Dima, it seems you have,” he said. All their other teatimes, it had been up to Claude to fill the silence with his voice. Claude wasn’t particularly in love with the sound of his own voice, even if he knew it could be useful. But Dimitri seemed to adore it. Claude could tell from how Dimitri’s posture relaxed whenever he spoke about anything at all that it had a soothing effect on the other.

“When did I become ‘Dima’?” he asked, and Claude abruptly realized – he had never called Dimitri by that name before the war. It had been sometime after, sometime between hearing about his execution and finding him alive at Gronder that the name had become associated with Dimitri in Claude’s head. He couldn’t recall a specific time or place when it had begun to happen that way. Only that, in his memories, it had somehow become _Dima_ with a warm smile, _Dima_ praying in the chapel, _Dima_ with acceptance in his eyes, _Dima_ curled up in his bed. How, and when? He didn’t know. So, he answered honestly.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Do you dislike it?” he asked, and only smiled when Dimitri shook his head. The prince paused for a moment, staring at the bottom of his teacup. Claude realized it was empty and he stood to pour Dimitri a second cup while the other mustered up his strength to carry on an entire conversation with Claude.

“It sounds… Almyran,” he said as Claude settled the teapot back onto the table and sat down once again. An old, familiar wariness bubbled up inside of Claude’s chest at the implication in Dimitri’s tone, but he swallowed it down. It was only Dimitri, who had met him with open arms and acceptance when he’d first guessed Claude’s secret. Why on earth should that change? There was nothing accusatory in Dimitri’s expression, only a soft curiosity that implored Claude to answer.

“It is,” Claude responded. “It means… _beautiful_ ,” he added a moment after, and was rewarded by being able to watch Dimitri’s face flood with the rosy color of a blush. Claude smiled. “ _Dima_.”

Dimitri’s next words, though, banished that smile from Claude’s face. “Claude… ‘Claude’ doesn’t sound very Almyran,” he whispered, staring down at the edge of the table. Looking away, he didn’t see how the color drained from Claude’s face, nor would he be able to hear the way Claude’s heartbeat started pounding in his ears. It wasn’t until after a few moments of silence that Dimitri lifted his head again and saw the profound affect his words had on the other. Dimitri’s own features went slack with horror as Claude saw so many worries race onto the prince’s face. He could practically hear the thoughts that screamed to life in Dimitri’s head, telling him that he had messed up, he had messed up, _he had messed up_ -

No, Claude resolved. This conversation wasn’t going to go that way. Today was a _good_ day. On Dimitri’s good days, he got out of bed and drank tea with Claude and he spoke. On Claude’s good days, he _trusted_ more than he thought was good for him. He wasn’t going to ruin Dimitri’s good day with a bad one of his own.

Still, he feared he might have already done so as he watched Dimitri’s hands shake and the teacup he had been holding was suddenly squeezed and shattered in his fingers, broken ceramic and spilled tea going all over the table and into what remained of Dimitri’s meal. “Claude, I- I’m so sorry-” he began, but Claude gathered himself, shook his head, and as he stood, he let his defenses fall away.

“It’s not,” he answered, moving forward to sit beside Dimitri and take his hands in his own. Carefully, he began to pull bits of teacup from his palms, wincing when he realized he was going to have to call Marianne for this soon enough. Claude had never been much of one for faith, and so he had never been much of one for white magic, either. Still, he did what he could, carefully tending to Dimitri’s hands. “Claude _isn’t_ an Almyran name,” he said. “ _Khalid_ is, though.”

Dimitri was quiet for a long moment, looking into Claude’s face as Claude tended his palms. It was rare that anyone got to see him like this, with his guard down. He couldn’t blame Dimitri for staring. “Kah-leed,” he pronounced carefully, and Claude couldn’t help but grin at the prince’s attempt to speak the foreign name. “Kahleed.”

Claude nodded, lifting his gaze to meet Dimitri’s. “It means immortal, eternal,” he explained. “It is the name of a warrior, which my parents figured I would need, growing up as proof of love that was meant to be forbidden,” he said. Dimitri nodded earnestly.

  
“Khahleeeed,” the prince tried once again, and this time, Claude couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Dima,” he said. “ _Claude_ is just fine with me, you know.” The prince seemed to take this under consideration for a long while before he nodded once again. Letting out a breath, Claude looked down at Dimitri’s bleeding palms. “I’ll have to get Marianne for this,” he said gently. “I hate to end our evening early, but you don’t need more scars than you already have.” Dimitri hummed pensively in response to those words and gave a slow nod in agreement. As Claude rose, though, Dimitri voiced one last request.

“Claude,” he called, making the other turn around. “You know that I… I love your voice,” he said. “And that I think your language is… beautiful. It is like a whole language of lullabies. Will you… speak some more of it to me, again?” he asked. Claude paused, his hand already at his belt for his key. He knew he shouldn’t tarry much longer in getting Marianne, and he knew that Dimitri hadn’t necessarily meant that he wanted to hear the Almyran tongue right _now._ But looking into the prince’s earnest expression, words came unbidden to Claude’s lips. Just the same as they had the first time Dimitri’d asked him this question, it didn’t take long for him to find something to say while his heart felt warm and his head spun with disbelief that this too-good-to-be-true prince was _in love_ with his voice.

He smiled softly. “… _mn ahmqm keh ‘eashq tw shdh am, Dima,_ ” Claude murmured, and Dimitri’s expression lit up.

“What does it mean?” he asked next, and that was a question, Claude feared, he _couldn’t_ answer honestly.

“Nothing. Now, just sit tight. I’ll be right back with Marianne.” He slipped out of the door, sealing it behind him, and as he headed down the hall, he repeated the phrase softly in his own mind, where it was safe from everyone’s ears but his own.

_I am a fool for falling for you, Dimitri._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter's even longer. ^^;


	7. Heaven, Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incoming: the longest chapter so far, please be prepared for emotional roller coaster as we finally get a long look inside Dimitri's head.

Dimitri did his best not to look at his hands while he waited for Claude to come back with Marianne. Not so long ago, the sight of blood on his palms hadn’t bothered him at all. He supposed the fact that it did now, even if it was only his own blood, was probably a mark of progress. It had also helped, too, that this time was an accident. So many times in the past five years he had bloodied his hands on purpose and felt no remorse for it at all. But… those five years were over. The _war_ was over. Edelgard was dead. Arundel was dead. Cornelia was dead. All those people that were to blame for the deaths of his friends and family, they were dead. There was no one left for Dimitri to kill.

He wondered, as he sat alone in his bedroom not looking at his hands, where that left him now as the sole survivor of Duscur. Would the dead finally leave him alone? He hadn’t had nightmares since arriving in Derdriu, but he worried that had more to do with Claude than his ghosts being put to rest. Besides, it wasn’t just the ghosts of Duscur that haunted him, now. Ingrid, Sylvain, Dedue, Felix… he had seen all of them fall at Gronder. What of Mercedes, Ashe, and Annette? He had always thought them too soft for war, not like his friends which had been raised for knighthood. Had they died, too? Just like Glenn? Or had they the sense to run away…?

Whatever their fates were, Dimitri felt guilt bubble up in his chest. None of them should have been there with him at Gronder. None of them should have taken that chance, and _none of them should have died for him._ Felix had told him to remember. Luckily for Felix, remembering the dead was something he was all too good at.

Despite his best intentions, Dimitri found his gaze drifting back to his hands. They were so bloody. And they always would be, wouldn’t they? Even if he washed away the red staining his fingers, the impression of it would always remain branded upon his very soul. The boar was still there. Dimitri could feel him, pacing inside his chest and waiting for something new to rage at, someone else to become his next victim. Dimitri… he could _not_ let that happen. He could not let that beast out. There was _no one_ left for it to kill, because the only person left to blame now was Dimitri himself.

His vision blurred as he clenched his fists, watching blood seep up between the cracks in his fingers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the ghosts inside his head. “I’m so sorry…”

“ _Boar_.”

No. No, Dimitri thought. Claude had kept the voices away for so long that Dimitri had even begun to hold the hope that they might be gone forever. But he should have known better. Dimitri’s vision was swimming as he lifted his head and saw that the dead had come back to visit him again. His father, his stepmother, and Glenn were gone. Maybe they were finally at rest. But the dead were still not done with Dimitri. As tears started to fall down his face, he could only barely see through them to make out the figures of Ingrid, Sylvain, Dedue, and Felix. Ingrid with her eyes missing, blood running down her face with arrows sticking out of her gut. Sylvain with a sword through his neck and his head twisted at an unnatural angle. Dedue with his chest crushed and his armor smashed into pieces. Felix with blood matting his dark hair and running from his eyes and staining his teeth as he hissed venomous words at Dimitri.

“ _We died for you, boar_. _We_ died _for_ you.”

“Please, I’m sorry…” He closed his eyes tightly and buried his face in his bleeding hands. “I’m sorry!”

“Dimitri?”

That voice… that was not the ghost of Felix. Blinking, Dimitri lifted his head. The room was empty of ghosts, and in their place stood Marianne and Claude. Marianne was blinking in shock when she saw Dimitri’s tears, while Claude wrestled with his mask behind her. Dimitri could see how the concern that flooded his features was swallowed down and replaced with his charming, reassuring smile. Dimitri was mutely glad for that. Claude’s smile scared away the demons in his head more than anything else.

“Oh, Dimitri, it must hurt very badly,” Marianne said, coming to sit down at the table with him to cup her hands around his. She made no further remark on his tears nor anything else she and Claude may have heard as they approached the room. Instead, she just furrowed her brow in quiet focus as her thumbs traced tiny circles on the pads of his hands and warm light seeped up from her palms into his. The minor cuts from the broken teacup were mended in mere moments, and then Claude was at his side, too. He had a damp washcloth – two damp washcloths, one which he passed over to Marianne. As she began to clean the blood from his hands, Claude wiped the blood and tears from his face, his hands so, so warm and so, so gentle.

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri murmured once again, to which Marianne responded with a quiet, ‘oh!’. He jolted and looked up at the noise of surprise, only to see that Marianne was smiling at him, her brown eyes practically shining with joy at having heard his voice again. Dimitri didn’t think he had ever seen her so happy. They had spoken from time to time, back at the Academy, and she had confided in him that he was not the only one who felt the power of his Crest as a monster inside of him. She, too, had confessed that there was a beast inside of her blood, one which she felt had to be contained and suppressed inside. Back then, her eyes had always been so sad. Now, she was something else entirely. How, he wondered, how had she found happiness with a monster inside of her? How was that possible? And was it possible for someone like him, too? She smiled, and her smile was soft but unreserved.

“I’m sorry, myself, Dimitri. I, um, didn’t mean to make you jump like that,” she apologized. She didn’t call attention to his voice, or the fact that he had spoken. She of all people knew that doing so did nothing but frighten a person right back into their shell. She looked back to his mended and cleaned hands and nodded to herself. “Well, that takes care of that,” she said. “Is there anything else you would like me to heal? You’re being quite cooperative today. Is it because Claude is here?” she asked, and Dimitri felt his cheeks and ears going warm.

“Does he usually _not_ cooperate?” Claude asked, pulling the hair back from Dimitri’s eye so he could catch his gaze, though Dimitri studiously tried to avoid it. “Have you been a bully to sweet little Marianne, Dima?” he teased, grinning as Dimitri felt himself fidget like a scolded child. He was not a child! And yet Claude’s teasing just had a way of undoing him.

“No, no, nothing of the sort, Claude!” Marianne was swift to assure. “It is just, sometimes, your prince can be very stubborn. And he is… proficient at hiding his hurts,” she told him, her brow creasing just a little bit as she looked back to Dimitri. “So, please, Dimitri. You know that there’s no keeping secrets from Claude. Is there anything else that requires healing?” she asked. Dimitri swiftly shook his head and Marianne looked to Claude for his assessment of the answer. Claude studied Dimitri for a moment and took his answer as truth. He gently laid Dimitri’s hair back over his face. Dimitri hid behind his hands, flustered, as he listened to Marianne and Claude clean up the mess on the table that had once been dinner. They were chatting with one another but their words were far away, because Dimitri was still trying to wrap his head around something that Marianne’d said just a moment ago.

_Your prince._

Just how long had he been _Claude’s_ prince? The way that Marianne had dropped the moniker with such ease, and how Claude hadn’t protested it in the slightest, made him realize that they both thought of him that way. Who else did, he wondered? Dimitri couldn’t know, Dimitri didn’t know of _anyone_ on the other side of that doorway. But there must be more people out there besides Claude and Marianne. What did they say, when they talked about him? Did they say _Claude’s prince_ , too? And why did the thought of that make him feel like there were butterflies about to explode out of his chest? He and Claude were long past butterflies, weren’t they?

Maybe they weren’t. After all, they’d had no time at all together, had they? Before the war drove them apart? Even the last _proper_ conversation he’d had with Claude before today had been _years_ ago. He really didn’t think that they had spoken much at all since… since the night of the ball. And that night had been _full_ of butterflies. He would never forget it, how he had felt like he was floating off the ground when Claude took hold of his hand and whispered “ _come away with me_ ” and had taken him to his bedroom.

At first Dimitri had been so, so nervous. And rightfully so, he thought. After all, plenty of people accused him of being somewhat oblivious, but he wasn’t _entirely_ naïve. He had heard plenty enough from Sylvain to be well aware of what usually happened when someone said something like “join me in my room.” And, oh, was he a fool? After all, he and Claude had just made an oath to one another on the steps of the Goddess Tower, and legend said that oaths like that were forever binding. People romanticized it so much in the legends, and as Dimitri had followed Claude up the stairs to their dorm rooms, he felt his footsteps grow heavy and nervousness well up in his throat even as Claude had shushed him.

“Your boots are so loud, your princeliness. It’s a good thing everyone’s at the ball and no one’s here to catch us sneaking around,” he had said, casting a little wink over his shoulder. When he’d seen the look on Dimitri’s face, though, he had paused, dropping the teasing mannerisms and stopping with one foot on the top stair. Dimitri had been able to tell that his features were burning red, and he couldn’t bring himself to look up at Claude. Standing higher on the steps than him, Claude was now taller than the prince, and for some reason, that made him seem imposing in Dimitri’s mind. His hands were shaking and he could feel himself gripping Claude’s fingers _tight_.

“Dimitri. Hey. Hey, careful, I need that hand,” Claude had said, starting to fidget, and Dimitri let go with a gasp.

“My apologies!” he blurted, ripping his hand away from Claude like he’d burned him. “I do not know my own strength, are you injured?” he had asked quickly, blue eyes wide. He hadn’t held anyone’s hand in quite a long time, but this would not have been the first time one of his casual touches had accidentally bruised someone, or worse. He watched anxiously as Claude flexed his fingers a couple times and shot him a smile.

“Nah, I’m all right,” he had said, moving up to the last step and sitting down upon it. He tilted his head and rested his chin in his palm, studying Dimitri as he stood there, unable to do anything but blush. Dimitri could only imagine what Claude was thinking about him. None of the things that came to mind were particularly nice, but one stung more than the rest. _Coward,_ he scolded himself. _You’re a coward. He has been so kind and honest with you, do you not owe him this?_

“Dimitri, do you want to talk about it, or what?” Claude had asked him, then, his smile gentle and reassuring. When Dimitri looked up and saw he was smiling with more than just his lips – the expression met his eyes, this time! – he could tell that Claude was not angry with him. Really, if anything, he seemed amused. Patient. But amused all the same. He patted the stair beside him and Dimitri sat down heavily, feeling the wood creak beneath him as he flopped down. He was torn between feeling shame and feeling like a scolded child, only able to look at Claude from the corner of his eyes and blushing fiercely. When Dimitri didn’t speak, it was Claude that broke the silence. “…too fast, huh?” he asked, and Dimitri confirmed his guess with a shallow nod. Claude chuckled and reached up to brush the hair back from his brow. Dimitri very nearly held his breath as Claude’s hand came so near. He tracked its movement with his eyes, but Claude tutted softly at him and Dimitri finally made eye contact again.

“I should remind you, your princeliness,” he said. “It _is_ only going to be sleeping. _You_ are seventeen,” Claude said with a little grin. “And besides, sleeping was all we agreed to, isn’t it?” Dimitri felt a breath of relief whoosh out of his lungs as he nodded. Claude’s smile remained, soft on his lips and in his eyes. “Yes? Good, I’m glad we got that straight. Would you feel better, if I told you what was going to happen?” he asked, and Dimitri was barely given the space to breathe before Claude leaned in close to his ear and began to whisper sweetly to him. “Because, I was thinking, once we got to my room I’d make you some tea. We could talk about anything, or about nothing at all… whatever you wanted to talk about,” he said. “And then once you were all sleepy from the tea, I’d bundle you up in my blankets and lay down with you. Maybe hold you in my arms, and rock you back and forth. And I’d sing you my lullaby.”

It sounded like heaven.

“Would you like that, Dimitri?” Claude had asked him, and Dimitri found himself beyond words. He’d hidden his face behind his hands, unable to tame down the blush on his features. He thought Claude would laugh at him, but Claude didn’t, only played with the fringe of Dimitri’s golden hair until he had nodded. Then, Claude was speaking again, and Dimitri could hear the smile in his voice. “Good. Go put on your pajamas, then. I’ll be making the tea,” he said.

Claude had gotten up, then, giving Dimitri some breathing room as he ventured down the hallway towards his dorm. Dimitri sat there on the stair for about thirty seconds longer, unable to believe that this was happening. _Go put on your pajamas, then._ That only made it seem all the more nerve-wracking and real!

But… but this was Claude. Claude, who had been secretly singing him to sleep inside the chapel for the better part of the school year. Claude, who had noticed him going out night after night and pleading with a deaf goddess for help and who had _helped him_ when the goddess never answered. Claude, who had dropped everything he had been doing at the party when he had seen that Dimitri was missing from it, and had come to the chapel looking for him. Claude, who had trusted him with a secret so frightening to him that Dimitri had seen him shake, but who had chosen to _trust_ rather than _run_. Dimitri had held him and promised that his secret was safe. And now… now Claude wanted to do the same for him.

So Dimitri chose to trust rather than run, just as Claude had done. He got up from the steps and made his way to his room, glancing briefly into Claude’s as he passed by. Claude was setting up his teapot and Dimitri could smell crisp pine needles. _Almyran Pine is Claude’s favorite tea,_ he thought to himself as he continued down the hall. Almyran. He really wondered how Claude had managed to keep his secret for so long.

He got into his own room and pressed the door closed behind him, letting out a deep breath. Pajamas. He could do this. He pulled his shirt over his head too quickly and ripped the seam in his shoulder, letting out a soft breath as he heard it tear. Moving more slowly, he pulled it the rest of the way over his head and looked at the ripped fabric. Yeah, no way that was going unnoticed. At least he had two other uniforms he could wear until he tracked down Mercedes and asked her to mend this for him.

Really, the more pressing concern had been the fact that he’d torn his shirt at all. In the hallway, too, he’d hurt Claude’s hand holding it too tightly. His strength was always harder to control when his emotions went out of line, and right now, his emotions were positively _haywire_. He needed to take a moment, he needed to breathe, he needed to pull himself together, he needed to calm down. Claude. He was having a sleepover with Claude. Just sleeping. And tea. Sleeping, and tea, and _Claude singing him to sleep_. Dimitri’s heart had raced as he tried to calm himself down. He did _not_ want to mess this up.

But, he had reasoned, what could he possibly do to mess this up? Claude had already seen him at his worst. Exhausted and falling all over himself, a far cry from the graceful and refined prince he was supposed to be. Claude had already seen that. And he’d already seen him flustered and blushing and shy, too, and he’d just played with his hair and calmed him right back down. What was the worst that could happen? Dimitri couldn’t think of anything that Claude couldn’t calm him down from. Even the voices in his head were silent when Claude was nearby. And Claude was welcoming him in with open arms.

So Dimitri made himself move again. He pulled on his pajamas. Blue silk. He found himself wondering if Claude would tease him for wearing something so classically _Prince of Faerghus._ In truth, Dimitri had never worn silk before coming to the Academy. Faerghus’ climate was far too cold for such a luxury, but here in the warmer southern weather, the climate was more amenable to such things. He took a moment to straighten his hair up in the mirror, but when he caught himself doing so, he let out a soft laugh. He was fussing more over his appearance now than he had before going to the ball. He cared more about his _sleepover_ than he had cared about the _ball_.

All told, it had taken him nearly five minutes to change clothes and muster up the courage to walk back to Claude’s bedroom. He stepped inside, and there Claude was waiting in his own cotton pajamas. He had been sitting on his bed, looking out the window with moonbeams framing his face, and Dimitri had stood quietly in the doorway admiring the sight before clearing his throat to announce his presence. From the way Claude jumped, Dimitri had snuck up on him. From what Dimitri knew, sneaking up on Claude was supposed to be impossible.

“There you are,” Claude had said, recovering with a swift smile as he stood and moved past Dimitri to close the door. He cast the other boy a wink. “Wouldn’t want our privacy disturbed,” he explained as he went over to his desk. “I don’t have one of those little tea tables in here. Hilda claimed it for herself after Raphael accidentally broke hers,” he said. “You won’t mind sitting on the bed with me, will you?” he asked as he poured a cup for each of them. As he did so, Dimitri felt his palms go clammy. He was never good at controlling his strength when his emotions were running high, and those teacups looked delicate. Dimitri wasn’t good with delicate things, so he was left frozen even as he tried to brush past his anxiety.

“I… don’t see why not, if that is all right with you,” he made himself say, trying to swallow down his tension. “We can place the cups on the windowsill,” he suggested, and Claude nodded.

“That’s what I usually do when I brew something in the middle of the night,” he said, picking up his own cup and saucer and going back to the bed. He plopped down, sitting his tea on the windowsill to steep for a few minutes longer, and looked back to Dimitri. Dimitri looked at Claude, then to the cup waiting for him on the desk, and then back at Claude. The boy had quirked his brow curiously and Dimitri started to panic, unsure how to explain himself, but then Claude remedied the situation by getting up. He picked up Dimitri’s tea in one hand and used the other to take hold of Dimitri’s fingers again. He guided Dimitri to his bed and placed the tea down. He sat down across from him and took both of his hands in his own. He played gently with Dimitri’s fingers until Dimitri felt himself breathing again, and then, finally, Claude looked up at him once more. “Do you not like Almyran Pine?” he asked with a little half smile, and Dimitri blushed and cleared his throat.

“That… is not quite it,” he said. “I don’t mind the tea. It is only…” He had hesitated, then, but glancing up at Claude’s emerald gaze had given him the courage to press on. “Your teacups are very nice. And… I ripped a hole in my shirt a few minutes ago,” he said. It took Claude a moment to link those two sentences together, but when he did, he just smiled and hummed softly.

“I understand the problem,” he said. “And I think I have a solution. How about this?” he said, wrapping his hands around Dimitri’s cup. Dimitri’s brows had raised and he could feel his ears going red again, but Claude shushed him. “No, I’m not going to feed you. But I believe I’ve already demonstrated tonight that my hands are tougher than you think?” he questioned, and Dimitri’s shoulders pulled up closer to his ears.

“But what if I hurt you?” he had asked. It was the last thing that he wanted to do, the worst thing that he could think of doing in repayment for all the kindness Claude had shown him. But Claude had just smiled and shrugged.

“I don’t think you will,” he said. “And even if you do, what do you think the Crest of Riegan is good for?” he asked. Dimitri thought back to his study of Crests in his youth. Those born with the Crest of Riegan had the incredible power of self-renewal. They were said to be able to survive things which would kill most ordinary men, and had impossible speed in recovery from wounds. Claude could see him thinking, and he nodded gently. “Even if you did the worst thing possible, and broke my fingers, I bet you they’d be back to normal before morning, Dimitri,” he said. “I’ve had my Crest’s power tested enough times to know I can rely on it, at this point.”

What did that mean? Dimitri wondered. Claude had tested the power of his Crest before? Of his own choosing, or…?

Dimitri didn’t really want to think about the possible implications of those words, and he didn’t want to follow the trail of that thought. So instead, he had wrapped his fingers around Claude’s, his hold so very, very gentle as he lifted Claude’s hands and the cup of tea to his mouth and took a long drink from it. When he was done, he lowered his hands before releasing them, and Claude was smiling at him with such pride.

“See, there? You did it. Not a bruise on me,” he assured, and Dimitri had smiled as he felt a fluttering right by his heart. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, practically vibrating with joy. It felt like he had gotten through the most difficult part of the night, and he was _elated_. He’d made it to Claude’s room. He’d not broken the teacup. Now, what was there left to do but talk until they both got tired and went to bed?

Riding the high of his successes, he asked something that he maybe should not have. “Tell me about Almyra,” he requested, and Claude spluttered on his own drink. Swiftly, he tried his best to reassure Claude that he could be confided in. “Dedue talks to me about Duscur, sometimes,” he said. “About the flowers, and the food… about his sister, and the rest of his family,” he said. “You do not have to share anything nearly so personal with me, but… but I have always enjoyed hearing about the lands beyond what we are taught about in Fodlan. If there is anything at all you feel comfortable sharing with me… I would be honored,” he said.

Claude had gone quiet for a long time, looking out the window, and Dimitri had wondered if he’d made a horrible mistake. But then, Claude began to speak, and it was almost as though an entirely different person was sat in the room with him. Claude’s eyes were far away, and his voice was quiet. And the images he wove with his words took Dimitri far away.

“Almyra is a land of desert,” he said. “But it is not a desert like the people of Fodlan think it is. Here in Fodlan, with your towering mountains and rolling green hills, you think of deserts as wastelands, places where nothing can grow. But in Almyra, the deserts are full of beauty. The wind ripples across the sand and leaves rivers of air playing behind. You can see for miles in every direction and there is nothing hemming you in. At night, because there are no trees and the mountains are far away, there is _nothing_ between you and the stars,” he said. “Looking up at the sky in Almyra makes you realize your place in the universe. And when it rains!” Claude spoke, a smile appearing on his face. “ _Khdaan_. When it rains, the deserts _erupt_ in beauty, and so do the people. The rainy season is the time of festivals in Almyra, and its people sing and dance late into the nights and splash and play in the rain during the day. The women weave bolts of rainbow cloth for everyone to wear so that we might all be as beautiful as the flowers in the desert for those few short weeks,” he said. He continued, but the more he went on, the less Dimitri was actually able to follow, even though Claude’s voice and expression became no less stunning. “We celebrate the new year in the same way. The people _awaz w rqus_ until _awlan cheragh haa speadh dm_ , when the _aftab_ makes its return from _zar shkem tarake jhan_ and the demons are put to rest for the entirety of the dark days… _madrm hmashh ba sdaa blnd az hmh awaz ma khwand w ma rqsad, w mthl mn kharja bwd. Ama uqta aw rqsad, uqta mn brqsadm, hache kes ma ra kharja nma khwand…_ ”

“Your language is _beautiful_.”

Dimitri wished he had stayed silent, but he could no longer. He couldn’t contain his words and his wonder as he sat there and looked at Claude, who blinked at him like he was waking from a trance. It seemed like it was _finally_ Claude’s turn to blush, and he ducked his head towards his chest with a weak chuckle. “…I didn’t even notice I’d started,” he confessed, and Dimitri glowed with pride. Claude _didn’t even notice_. That was quite a testament to how much he trusted Dimitri already, wasn’t it?

Inching closer to Claude, toes curling in the other boy's bedsheets, Dimitri looked at him imploringly. “Can I hear more of it?” he asked. Claude had seemed stunned. Then, he had blushed. Then, he had spoken again.

“ _Cheshman shma bsaar sadq ast. Anha zabatran mn hstnd keh takenwn dadh am._ ”

Dimitri didn’t understand a word of it. But looking into Claude’s eyes and how they had stared so softly back at him, Dimitri couldn’t help but think that whatever Claude had just said was about _him._ “What does it mean?” he asked next, but Claude had only chuckled and blushed and turned away to sip his tea.

What they talked about after that, Dimitri didn’t really remember. Claude had done most of the talking while Dimitri was just content to listen. Content to just sit there, and listen, and fall slowly in love with the sound of Claude’s voice. It filled up his entire being in a way that nothing could describe; it silenced the voices in his head and warmed him from within until his ears were buzzing from it. Claude’s voice brought him to a state of relaxation he hadn’t known since before the fires of Duscur, and it wasn’t until Claude caught Dimitri’s eyelids sinking slowly that he stopped his chattering. He had smiled and reached over to cup Dimitri’s cheek, thumb tracing gently under his eye.

“Has the tea made you sleepy, your princeliness?” Claude had asked him, and Dimitri gave a small nod. Claude smiled. “All right. Seems like it’s time for phase three of the plan, then. Blankets and lullabies,” he promised, and Dimitri felt a sleepy smile stretch across his features. “Get comfortable,” Claude told him. “I’m not bothered about which side of the bed you pick. I’ll just put away the teacups and then I’ll be right here.”

Dimitri lay down with his back against the wall so that when Claude returned, he was between Dimitri and the door. Between Dimitri and the rest of the outside world. Dimitri really doubted that Claude missed the symbolism there, but he said nothing of it, only kept his promise as he began wrapping up Dimitri in his blankets. Only once he was sufficiently cocooned did Claude stop and lay down himself and pull Dimitri’s head against his shoulder. Dimitri released a sound like a little mewl, and Claude chuckled softly. “Hush, little lion,” he’d said, and Dimitri went all red again as Claude added his arms to the bundle that surrounded him and started to rock him back and forth.

Then came the blessed lullaby, and Dimitri went loose in Claude’s hold.

_“Lalae kon, lalae kon,_

_Maman tanhat nemizare,_

_Duset dare, duset dare,_

_Mishine paye gahvare…”_

Claude didn’t stop singing for a long while, leaving Dimitri dancing on the edge of sleep. He kept rocking him, but even though the lullaby stopped, Claude’s words didn’t. “…if you must know what I said to you before, Dimitri… it is this,” he whispered. “You have the most honest eyes I have ever seen, and they are _beautiful_ ,” he said. “I am convinced they are entirely unique in all the world, and that is the truth. Dimitri. Your eyes are beautiful. _You_ are beautiful.”

Claude was petting his hair now, and Dimitri wondered if Claude thought he was asleep or if he knew that he was still awake. It didn’t matter, Dimitri decided. He was too tired to move anyway. He was too wrapped up in heaven to do anything that might break this spell.

…the clink of the teapot and the sound of Claude thanking Marianne for her help brought Dimitri from his thoughts. He blinked away the spell that memories had cast over him and lifted his head from his hands to see Marianne taking their tray of half-eaten dinner out of the room with a little curtsy to him and Claude both. She closed the door behind her and it locked with a soft ‘click’, and then, he and Claude were alone in the room together, again.

So much had changed since that first night, years ago, when Claude had rocked him to sleep. But here Claude still was, ready to do it again as he coaxed Dimitri up and beckoned him back to the plush comforts of his mattress and the freshly washed blankets atop it. Dimitri felt like he had only just woken up, but he exhausted himself easily these days. Marianne said his strength would come back in time, he just needed to allow himself to heal. And, it seemed, that Claude was willing to walk with him on every slow step of this journey, no matter how long it took.

Dimitri lay down on the bed with the wall at his back and Claude bundled him up in all the blankets the bed had to offer. He pulled Dimitri’s head to his shoulder, and he rocked him back and forth, back and forth. Claude started to hum, and Dimitri began to weep. Claude felt the tears against his neck and he startled, shifting at once to look down into Dimitri’s eye with questioning worry on his own face.

“Dima, what’s wrong?” he asked. Dimitri’s lips twitched and he couldn’t see Claude’s face through the blurring of his tears. He didn’t know what was wrong. No – everything was wrong. He just wasn’t sure how he was supposed to say that. At least Claude seemed to understand as much, because he didn’t demand answers. He just pulled Dimitri close and let him hide his face in his neck and grieve.

He wished that morning had never come. He wished that the night he’d spent in Claude’s room had lasted forever, and that fate or the Goddess or _whoever_ was in charge up there hadn’t seen fit to make the sun rise and to make time pass and to rip them apart. To rip _him_ apart. Maybe fate was finally giving Dimitri a kind turn by placing him in Claude’s lap like this. Or maybe, he thought, maybe fate was torturing Claude with this broken version of Dimitri that he was trying desperately to hold together. _That_ seemed more like something fate would be inclined to do.

“I’m sorry,” he heard himself whisper against Claude’s skin. “I’m so sorry…”

“ _No_ ,” Claude told him firmly, reaching up to card his fingers through Dimitri’s hair. “No. There is nothing you need to apologize to me for,” he said. “ _No,_ Dimitri. No.”

But there were so many other things, he thought. So many other things he should be sorry for, but hadn’t been when he’d done them. So many people he needed to apologize to. So many sins he needed to atone for. The mountain was too big. The weight was too much. It was going to crush him.

Dimitri began to feel himself slipping into a panic at about the same time Claude noticed him hyperventilating. It was too much. It was all too much. Claude sat up; he was probably trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. When Dimitri looked up, though, he didn’t see just Claude. Ingrid, Sylvain, Dedue, Felix. They were back. And they were _hateful_.

“Do not look at me with scorn in your eyes!” Dimitri begged his ghosts, ripping free of the blankets so he could cover his face. He didn’t want to look at them. If he didn’t look, maybe they would go away. If he couldn’t see them, maybe they couldn’t see him. “Go away!” he pleaded with them. “Please, go away! Let me have peace!”

“ _You don’t deserve peace,_ ” Felix said. “ _How can you even think about that when we_ died _for you?_ ”

“No, Felix, please! Ingrid, Sylvain, Dedue! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“ _You think your apologies mean anything to us, boar? We’re dead. We’re dead, and it’s because of you_.”

“No, no, I know, I’m sorry!” Didn’t they understand? His words were empty, but they were all that he had to give. There was no one left to kill. And no one to hate but himself.


	8. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse before they get better, but I promise they get better. :)

Claude didn’t know what exactly had gone wrong. One moment, he was making a wrap out of Dimitri and all his blankets, humming to him and holding him against his shoulder. The next, he had felt tears against his neck and turned to see Dimitri weeping. And now, Dimitri had all but thrown him off the bed, screaming apologies to people that Claude could not see.

He remembered what Dimitri had said to him, all those years ago. That he felt the souls of the departed latch themselves onto his body and that they had never let him go. That he was tormented by them and their screams, that they haunted every moment of his day and stole his peace. The first time Claude had come across Dimitri in the chapel, he had been begging the goddess for peace. Now he was begging again, and once more, it was to someone who Claude knew was just as deaf to Dimitri’s pleas as his nonexistent goddess. Claude knew that the room was empty besides the two of them. He knew that ghosts didn’t exist. But Dimitri… had scars. Deep, deep scars in his psyche that manifested his survivor’s guilt as hallucinatory torment. Claude certainly didn’t know all the details of it – how could he? He hadn’t been inside Dimitri’s head – but that was his best guess as to what was going on, at least at a very basic level. He had no idea what Dimitri saw when he slipped into this state, and honestly, he didn’t want to imagine it. He didn’t _want_ to imagine what could put horror like that on Dima’s face.

The one thing he did know with certainty was that he needed to snap Dimitri out of it. Ashe had told him that his voice’d had a profound effect on Dimitri before. The lullaby hadn’t worked, though. So Claude used what had worked at Gronder.

“Dimitri!” he shouted, and he did what he wished he could have done on the battlefield. He reached for Dimitri, hands catching his face. “Di-”

Stars.

The next thing Claude knew, he was laid flat on his back, staring at the ceiling as his head spun and spun and spun. He could taste liquid iron in his mouth and he couldn’t breathe. His nose was streaming. His mouth was full. He was choking. Pain came upon him, delayed, but sudden, and he let out a hoarse shriek.

“Claude!”

A flash of blue and gold over him; uselessly failing hands. Dimitri. One of Dimitri’s hands reached towards him, cupping his cheek, and Claude _screamed_ in anguish. Well, gurgled, at least. Dimitri’s hands flew away and Claude could see panic on his face through his blurred vision. What had happened? What the hell had just happened to him?

He had been attacked, obviously. Claude felt like his head had just been smashed by Sarbi’s powerful tail, but how had Sarbi gotten in here? Dimitri was still flailing above him, whispering things like “Oh, my Goddess,” and “What have I done?” and Claude finally spotted the red on Dimitri’s knuckles, and everything made sense. Dimitri had punched him. Claude had thrown himself at the prince while he was drowning inside of a waking nightmare and Dimitri had gotten frightened and punched him. That was what had happened.

Okay, Claude thought, willing himself to calm. This wasn’t the first time he’d been attacked, not by a long shot. He knew how to keep himself calm under duress, knew what he needed to do to pull through this. He needed to breathe. Breathe, and assess.

First things first, he still couldn’t breathe. His mouth was flooded with blood and it was running back down and into his throat, clogging his airways. He needed to turn over so that gravity could take the blood somewhere else. The only problem was that his body didn’t seem to be listening very well to his brain, and all he managed to do was toss his head on a boneless neck which only sent more searing pain throughout his entire body. He gurgled again. Not good, not good…

But then Dimitri’s hands were back, slowly rolling him onto his side and angling his face so the blood ran out of his mouth. Claude spluttered and gasped and secretly thanked Professor Hanneman for training all of the Blue Lions in basic first aid, and thanked Dimitri for remembering those lessons. He was breathing again. And while that brought his pain into sharper focus, it also meant he wasn’t at immediate risk of drowning in his own blood. Speaking of blood, though, Claude could feel his Crest aching and burning in it, now. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow and felt it manifest, a glowing half-moon on his cheek. Above him, Dimitri gasped as he saw the golden light.

“This… is bad,” the prince murmured, hands shaking as he held Claude’s shoulder so he wouldn’t fall onto his back, held Claude’s chin so the blood would keep coming out of him instead of going into his windpipe. Yeah, Claude thought with a groan in Dimitri’s direction. This felt _pretty bad._

But being subjected to pain and being subjected to mortal injury were two very different things. Dimitri was doing all he could right now, making sure Claude didn’t drown in his own blood. So it was down to Claude to try and figure out just _how_ bad this was. Breathe, and assess. What could he feel? What was wrong?

He probably had a concussion, was the first thing that filtered into his mind. Judging from the way he couldn’t see straight and how his head felt like it was throbbing, definitely a concussion. His nose was bleeding, possibly broken. But it felt like the center of all his pain was right in his jaw, and he had to assume that was where Dimitri’s fist had collided with him. He moved his tongue inside his mouth, feeling around. Tongue was definitely bleeding, the inside of his cheek, too, both cut from the impact against his teeth. A few of his teeth were loose, and Claude stopped touching them with his tongue as soon as he figured out which ones. Proper healing magic soon enough could keep him from losing them, but not if he pushed them out himself. And his jaw… broken. His jaw was definitely broken.

Okay, he told himself. _Okay. Breathe. It’s a lot of blood, and it hurts a lot, but you’re not dying. It just… feels like it._ What was the next step? What did he need to do now? He was still breathing, and he knew what was wrong. Now, he needed to get help. Claude, though, was fairly certain he couldn’t walk. In fact, he was quite confident that he’d probably faint if he even tried to sit up. So it was a good thing that he wasn’t alone.

Dimitri was doing his best, Claude could tell that much. He even thought he felt a warm plume of white magic weave itself through his aching head from the hand at his chin, but he couldn’t be sure if Dimitri was actually attempting healing magic right now or if the sensation was just his brain fogging up and telling him to pass out. He _couldn’t_ pass out. Not with a head injury, not until there was a healer here. But the little wave of relief, whether from Dimitri’s hand or Claude’s Crest, gave him enough energy to at least act upon what needed doing next.

Claude shifted, moving around enough that, even if Dimitri let go of him, he would stay on his side and wouldn’t start choking again. He managed to get his arm to work enough to reach up for Dimitri’s hand that rested upon his shoulder. He opened his eyes, looking up at Dimitri imploringly as he squeezed his hand _tight_ and hoped that Dimitri got the message.

It took the prince a moment. His features were awash in guilt and horror as he looked down at Claude, but as Claude turned that pleading expression up to him, his expression shifted. “…get help?” he asked, his voice small, and Claude made an affirming gurgle from the back of his throat. Dimitri nodded swiftly, giving Claude’s shoulder the gentlest of squeezes before he let go. “Get help. Of course. Of course, I’ll get help,” he promised. He lingered only long enough to make sure that Claude could really stay rolled onto his side on his own, and then, he was rushing through the door.

Literally.

Despite his pain, Claude found himself biting back a weak chuckle as he heard the door smashed to splinters. There went the illusion of keeping Dimitri a prisoner. Nothing for that, though. He’d always known that the door couldn’t stop Dimitri if he wanted to leave. For now, he just closed his eyes and focused on breathing and staying conscious until Dimitri came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter's a big one and I promise, the proper recovery starts real soon! Thanks for hanging on with me for this one.


	9. Catharsis

Dimitri was pretty sure that Claude wasn’t coming back. He didn’t think he had killed him, but all the same, he didn’t think that Claude was going to come back.

He didn’t even remember doing it, and that was the worst thing. He didn’t remember doing it, but he _must_ have. He was the only other person in the room. Furthermore, he was the only person he knew that could completely shatter a man’s jaw in one hit. He knew that he’d done it. And now, Dimitri wasn’t sure what was going to happen to him.

It was quiet in his room. The door had been replaced, and this one had the wood reinforced with iron. Dimitri knew he could have knocked it down if he wanted to, but why would he? He had nowhere else to go. Running would only wear him out. And he was already so, so tired.

Guilt consumed him. For three days he did nothing but sit huddled in the corner of his room. Marianne had come in on the first and second day, and she had assured him that Claude was going to be fine, and she had tried to coax him up and get him to have tea with her. But how could he have tea? When he could have easily _killed_ Claude on accident? He didn’t deserve to eat. He didn’t even want to. He just wanted to sit in the corner and stare and the ceiling and wonder how he had gotten to be this way.

Marianne did her best. She even sat in the floor with him and pressed a teacup to his lips in the hopes he would drink, but he only turned his face away from her. He didn’t deserve to drink. He didn’t even want to.

“I’m sorry,” she had whispered to him, tearful. “I’m so sorry I don’t know how to help you, Dimitri…” She had reached out and taken his large hand with both of her small ones, squeezing it tight. “I know what you’re going through… I know what it feels like to think of yourself as a monster. I’m so sorry that I can’t help you out of there. I’m sorry. I’m going to find someone who can,” she had promised him. Dimitri hadn’t responded to that, but it didn’t seem like she expected him to. She had just taken her tea tray and left.

On the third day of his penance, he began to feel shaky. His throat was dry and his head ached from dehydration. Maybe he’d die of thirst, but he really didn’t think so. Fate was too cruel to just let him die.

He heard the door open and he expected Marianne once again. To his surprise, it was someone else entirely. Someone he hadn’t seen for _years_. He had been told that she hadn’t died, but to see her here, in the flesh… he didn’t think he was ready for that.

Still, she turned towards him, her seafoam eyes bright even in the low lighting of the room. “Hello, Dimitri,” she said with a soft smile, and Dimitri felt himself tremble under the intensity of her stare.

“Professor,” he responded, hoarse. She picked up a teacup from the tray and knelt beside him, holding it out gently towards his hands. He froze, entire body tense. The Professor was here. She was actually here. And, furthermore, he’d found his voice again. So he asked her the question that had been on his mind ever since he’d seen Claude bleeding on the floor. “…why haven’t they thrown me in the dungeon, yet?” he asked. Byleth smiled at him, though there was something sad in the expression.

“Believe me, it’s not for lack of trying,” she said humorlessly. “Apparently Margrave Edmund asked for your head.”

Dimitri blinked slowly. So there had been retaliation, after all. Of course there would have been. He could only imagine Claude as the best Leader the Alliance had ever had, and Dimitri had nearly _killed him_. “Why doesn’t the Margrave have my head?” he asked next, and here, Byleth’s smile became a little more genuine.

“Apparently, Marianne put her foot down. Yelled at her father in front of the entire court,” she said. “And then the Margrave dared to strike her in front of everyone, including Lorenz, which set him off, and in the matter of a single afternoon the Round Table reached their first unanimous decision in months, throwing Margrave Edmund off the council and electing House Daphnel back in his seat. They then started discussions about formally dissolving the Alliance, and they’ve been too busy with that to take any action against you,” she said. “Not that they wanted to. Most everyone knows that it must have been an accident.”

Dimitri lowered his gaze, letting his hair fall down over his eye as he nodded, once. An accident. Yes. A terrible, horrible accident. Byleth exhaled through her nose and reached out to place a hand on Dimitri’s wrist. “But, I’m not here to talk about politics. I’m here for you, Dimitri,” she said. Dimitri lifted his head, and she pushed his hair back from his face.

“…what happened to your eye?” she asked, and Dimitri averted his gaze again. She sighed, running her thumb over his eyebrow. “Get up. Take tea with me.” It was not a question. Byleth stood and went back to the table, beginning to lay everything out. The Chamomile tea, the sweets, three bowls of soup. Three…?

Dimitri stood and made his way to the table. He had never disobeyed an order from the Professor. He doubted anyone had. She had a voice that made people _listen._ She had told him to take tea with her, and it wasn’t a question. So he was going to take tea, whatever protests his mind came up with.

She was still arranging things on the table as Dimitri took the first sip of tea. It felt _incredible_ to his parched throat, and before he was really aware of it, he drank the entire cup down in one shot. Byleth, though, had come prepared. She wordlessly slid a pitcher of water and a cup towards him, but Dimitri just ignored the cup, taking the pitcher with both hands and lifting it to his mouth. His throat felt like Ailell. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until he had water in his hands.

“My husband will be joining us,” Byleth said as she finished arranging the table and sat down. “You might not believe it, but he’s actually been quite worried about you,” she assured him with a smile as Dimitri lowered the pitcher from his lips and looked at her in confusion. Husband?

“Boar,” came an all too familiar voice from the doorway, and Dimitri froze, unable to believe it. “Did you miss me?”

Dimitri dropped the pitcher, which thankfully remained intact as it bounced off the carpet. It was empty, anyways. He turned slowly to face the door, expecting to see the Felix from his nightmares. Demon Felix with blood covering him.

What he turned and saw was a Felix with ash-white hair, an arched brow, and an almost amused smile on his lips. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he commented, and Dimitri felt his hands shake.

“You’re alive,” he whispered, and Felix straightened from where he had been leaning against the doorframe.

“Don’t tell me they didn’t tell you,” he said, and when Dimitri shook his head, Felix bared his teeth and looked down the hallway behind him, at no one in particular and at all of Derdriu at once. “Assholes,” he said, coming over to the table and seizing Dimitri’s chin in his hand. “I’m alive, Dimitri,” he said. Just like that. Felix… was alive. He released Dimitri’s chin and sat down beside Byleth, his _wife_ , and crossed his arms.

“You look… different,” Dimitri said. Felix flicked his silver hair out of his face.

“I am different,” he said. “And so are you, I expect. No one goes through what we did and comes out the same.” That was when Dimitri realized. No- when he _remembered._ They _hadn’t_ killed Felix on the fields of Gronder plain. He _hadn’t_ just imagined those mages doing terrible things to his friend, he _hadn’t_ just imagined those screams. And when they were rescued, he _hadn’t_ just imagined the Professor calling Felix’s name. He’d been in Shambhala, too.

Felix leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as he studied Dimitri’s face. “You don’t remember much, do you?” he asked, and when Dimitri shook his head, Felix huffed. “I’m not surprised. From what I could tell, they kept you drugged to high heaven most of the time,” he said. He shifted, and then his eyes went wide. “You must not even remember… no. You must not. Not if you thought I was dead…” Felix pressed a hand to his forehead and grimaced, but Byleth reached over and pulled his hand away from his face.

“Why don’t we eat first, Felix?” she suggested. “You knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Let’s eat, first. We’ll talk after,” she encouraged gently. Dimitri expected Felix to protest. He’d never seen the man capitulate to anyone’s desires before. So he was shocked when he saw his friend nod with a great, tired-sounding sigh.

“You heard her, boar. Eat up,” Felix ordered him, and Dimitri’s gaze dropped to the soup in front of him. He… wasn’t supposed to be hungry, was he? No, he was supposed to be guilty. But Felix was glaring at him from across the table until he picked up his spoon and started to eat. The swordsman then grunted his approval and dug into his own meal. They ate in silence, just the sound of spoons clinking against bowls to fill the quiet room. Felix had never been one for conversation. The Professor was usually quite quiet, too. They made quite the pair. And Dimitri, of course, wasn’t about to start talking. He didn’t even know what he would _say_. He just found himself wondering, as he ate, what was so important from Shambhala that Felix was concerned about him not remembering? He would think neither of them would _want_ to remember anything.

That curiosity gnawed at him as they ate, along with strange dread that coupled the sight of Felix’s silver hair. When their bowls were empty and Felix looked back up at him, he glared. Then, he sighed. His callous look seemed to wear away slowly as he held Dimitri’s gaze, and when he finally spoke, Dimitri understood.

“You saved my life in Shambhala.”

Felix grit his teeth and turned his gaze away. “Don’t know how much you remember, so I’ll just start from the top. You and I were kidnapped off the battlefields of Gronder by a man called Lord Arundel. Your step-uncle, if I recall correctly,” he said, and Dimitri nodded once, his own expression darkening. He had long harbored suspicion towards the man… how might things have gone differently if he had acted sooner against him? That was neither here nor there, though. And Felix was continuing.

“He took us underground. Deep, deep down to a hidden city full of mages who claimed that they would one day reclaim the power to rule the world. They kept you locked up all the time, drained your blood to fuel their experiments. With me, though, they got a little more creative,” he said. “They wanted to test the limits of my Crest. The Crest of Fraldarius, as you know, increases the holder’s strength and speed, but… it is a defensive Crest,” he said. “I cannot access its power freely. It only comes to me when I am under duress, when my life is in danger. The mages wanted to find out just _how much_ danger was required. If it could be triggered by other things...” He waved his hand in the air. “The works. You get the idea. I’m not going to go into details.”

Dimitri could certainly understand that. He didn’t remember much from Shambhala. But one thing he did remember was Felix screaming.

Across the table, impossibly alive, Felix sighed again. “Anyway. I’m not getting to the point of all this. They just didn’t want to test my Crest. They wanted to… enhance its power,” he said, and Dimitri could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “So they experimented. They played with my blood. They said they wanted to create a tempered blade like Fodlan had never seen before. The swiftness and endurance of Fraldarius, combined with the raw power of…”

Felix _shuddered_ , and Byleth reached over to take hold of his hand. Felix accepted it, seemed to draw strength from it, before he continued. “Their tests weren’t working. They were getting frustrated. They decided to resort to extreme measures – either their experiment was going to be a success, or I would die. Those were the only two outcomes,” he murmured, and Dimitri’s expression softened.

“Oh, Felix…”

“Don’t pity me, boar!” Felix snapped in response, but Byleth wrapped both of her hands around his, and Felix took a deep breath.

“Do you need to stop?” Byleth asked him, but Felix shook his head.

“…I can do it. I owe him this much, at least,” he murmured. He lifted his head again and looked back at Dimitri. “They chained me down. Chained me down, and opened me up. They said I needed to be awake for it. That my Crest needed to be active for the experiment to succeed. They broke my ribs and opened my chest and I could see my _heart_ racing and… and I screamed. I screamed _your name_ , Dimitri. And you… you came,” he said. “You broke chains that they thought were impossible to break, you smashed down two doors, and you crushed everyone that stood between me and you.” He closed his eyes tightly. “You were in a frenzy, and I was terrified of you when you came at me, but then… then you broke _my_ chains, and you used the white magic Professor Hanneman taught us to put me back together, and then… then you… you _held_ me,” he whispered. “ _You held me._ ”

Dimitri was silent. He had no idea what to say, or even what he was _supposed_ to say. He had… broken free? He had tried so hard to break free for himself. But apparently, when he needed to break free for someone else… he…

He remembered it, in vague flashes. Hearing Felix, desperate, screaming his name. Lifting his head and roaring like a lion as he threw himself forward with all his strength, threw himself enough to break the chains and two doorways to get to Felix. His friend had needed him. _Nothing_ had been strong enough to stop him from getting to his friend.

“I don’t know what happened to you after that,” Felix said. “I passed out, and when I woke up, you were gone. I thought the mages would come back for me, but they didn’t. They’d gotten what they wanted in the end. I was a _success_ ,” he said, spitting the word from his mouth like it was poisonous. “Not long after that, the Professor showed up and broke us out of there. I was alive, and they told me that you were, too,” he said. Byleth held tight to both of Felix’s hands, and Felix took a deep breath. “So there you have it, Dimitri. Shambhala,” he said.

Dimitri was quiet for a long while, taking it all in. It was a lot to process, but the most important thing of all was that _Felix was alive._ He looked up, expression earnest and pleading. “…what about the others?” he asked, and Felix quirked his brow. “Sylvain, Ingrid, Dedue…” He had seen their ghosts. Surely, he already knew the answer to this question. But his heart still plummeted when Felix shook his head.

“Annette and Mercedes made it. Ashe, too,” Felix responded. “But those three… dead. Died for you at Gronder.”

Dimitri slowly lowered his gaze to the edge of the table. He had known as much, hadn’t he? “…so, they will haunt me still…” he murmured, and Felix huffed.

“You and your ghosts. We’ve been over this, boar. Your ghosts are not real. They’re dead. The dead can’t think, or feel, or come back from being dead. They’re dead,” Felix said, and Dimitri shook his head.

“How can you say that?” he asked. “You haven’t heard their screams like I have, suffered their looks of hatred… you haven’t _felt_ them. You don’t know.”

“I _do_ know, boar!” Felix snapped. “My brother died in Duscur! But I refuse to spend the rest of my life whining about it! He wouldn’t have wanted that for me, he wouldn’t have wanted that for you, either!” he said. “And the others, Sylvain, Ingrid, Dedue, they wouldn’t have wanted that. They wouldn’t have wanted that!”

In a fit of rage, Felix slammed his hand down on the table. And the table _broke._ Dimitri sat there, speechless, as the dishes all went into the floor, and then Felix was standing up and Byleth was jumping to her feet after him. “Felix!” she whispered, soft and concerned. Felix brushed her away and moved towards the window.

“I hate it,” he muttered to her under his breath. “I hate that he has become this.”

“Edelgard’s hair wasn’t always white.”

Felix and Byleth both gave pause. Slowly, they turned towards Dimitri, both quite puzzled by the out of the blue statement. “Her hair wasn’t always white. When I met her, it was brown. But they say… they say that, when she arrived at the Academy, Edelgard had two Crests,” he said. “And Lysithea… she has two Crests, too. And her hair is white.” He looked down to the broken remains of the table, and went over again everything that Felix had said in the light of this new development. A tempered blade. Combining speed and endurance with raw strength. They’d taken Dimitri’s blood. And Felix’s hair was _white._

“Just put that together, have you?” Felix deadpanned from across the room. It took him a moment to move, but when he did, he came forward and knelt in front of Dimitri. He held up his left hand, palm up, and in a couple seconds, he summoned forward the signature light of the Crest of Fraldarius. This, Dimitri had seen Felix do before. When he’d seen that flash of light in battle, it meant that Felix was in danger. He had watched for it. And he’d seen it far too many times for his liking.

But then Felix lifted his right hand. It took a furrow of his brow and a deep breath, but then… there it was. The Star that marked the Crest of Blaiddyd. Dimitri felt his heart stall in his chest. Felix bore twin Crests. And one of them… one of them was the same monster that was inside Dimitri, himself.

“I’m… sorry,” he heard himself say, and Felix’s calm aura was wiped away in an instant by a much more familiar snarl.

“I don’t want your apologies!” he said. “And the dead don’t, either! They are _not real,_ Dimitri! It’s in your head! It’s just in your head!” he shouted, getting up to pace once again. “You know they aren’t real, don’t you? That the ghosts you see are not real?” he demanded, and Dimitri fell silent.

They _felt_ real. Didn’t that mean they were? “I… don’t know,” he said, and Felix threw up his arms in frustration before freezing. Slowly, he turned back towards Dimitri, frowning.

“Was _I_ one of your ghosts?” he asked. Now, it was Dimitri’s turn to freeze. Felix faced him fully. “When I first came into the room, I told you that you looked like you were seeing a ghost. Dimitri, _was I one of your ghosts?_ ” he asked. Swallowing thickly, Dimitri nodded, even as he was still processing just what this information meant.

“That proves it, then! They _aren’t_ real!” Felix said. He grabbed Dimitri by the shoulders and shook him. “How could I have been a ghost when I am alive in front of you? Answer, Dimitri! Tell me that you know! Tell me that you _know_ they aren’t real!”

“Be _easy_ with him, Felix!” Byleth said, pulling her husband back a step. Felix relented to her grip even as he protested.

“No!” he said. “I am _done_ being gentle with him! He’s had plenty of gentleness from Riegan! Someone needs to slap the man awake!” he said, and he looked back to Dimitri. “Answer! You know, now! You know they aren’t real!”

Dimitri could feel himself shaking. Ever since Duscur, he had been haunted. Haunted and hurt by the screams of the dead. It had been nine years. Nearly a decade. But only _now_ was he stopping to wonder… _what if he had just made them up?_ He looked up to Felix who was waiting for him to speak. “Maybe… maybe they are not real,” he whispered, and Felix let the air rush out of his lungs. He dropped to his knees in front of Dimitri once again. Then, his arms were around Dimitri’s shoulders. He might have been crying. Dimitri _definitely_ was. Felix shook him again, but this time it was gentler.

“They’re not real. They’re not real. Wake up, Dimitri. Stop listening to them. They’re not real,” Felix repeated like a mantra in his ear, over and over, until Dimitri started to believe it, too.

“They’re not real,” he repeated back, and Felix squeezed him _tight_. “But… but they still died for me. How… how am I supposed to ever be worthy of that sacrifice?” he asked, and Felix exhaled, slowly pulling back from the embrace.

“Maybe you should try doing what they would _actually_ want, Dimitri,” he said, “Maybe you should try doing something for the person that they _died for._ ” It took Dimitri a long moment to process that. Do something for the person they died for. Do something for… for himself? It seemed so incredibly selfish that Dimitri felt himself rejecting the idea. But Felix saw his protests forming and he shook him again.

“They _died_ for you, you idiot,” he said. “Dimitri, you idiot. They _loved_ you. We all…” He caught himself. “None of us would want you to suffer. Even if I had died, _I_ wouldn’t have wanted you to suffer. The boar, maybe. But not _you_ ,” he said. “Do something for them. Do something that they would have wanted. Do something for _yourself_.”

Dimitri’s lips trembled. His hands trembled. His entire self trembled and it was so bad that Felix relented with a sigh and embraced him again. “Like what?” Dimitri asked. “What do I do?”

“Get help,” Byleth finally spoke up again. “That’s what they would have wanted, Dimitri. That’s what we all want now, too. We want you to find help. And that’s why I’m here,” she said. Slowly, Dimitri nodded and began wiping his tears, and as he did, Felix got up again and reclaimed his seat. Byleth, too, sat down, making a small circle with them.

“What do I do?” Dimitri asked again, his gaze on the Professor. Her expression softened, and she smiled.

“Well, you’ve already done the hardest part,” she praised. “And I’m so proud of you for it. Felix is, too,” she said, looking over towards her husband. Dimitri followed her eyes over to one of his oldest friends in the world and saw that he hadn’t imagined it, Felix _was_ crying. When he realized he’d been caught, though, Felix bared his teeth.

“Asshole. Making me _cry_ over you,” he hissed, and Dimitri was wrapped with the strange urge to _laugh._ He didn’t, though. Just looked back to Byleth as she continued.

“The hardest part is admitting that you need help,” she told him. “And you did it, Dimitri. You’re there. It’s going to be all downhill from here,” she promised him. “You may not recognize it yet, but you have a strong support network, too. I am here for you, and so is Felix. Marianne, too, she’s the one that sent for me. And we _all_ know about Claude,” she said with a knowing smile. Dimitri felt his gut twist even as his heart beat double.

“Claude is… going to be okay?” he asked. Byleth reached over and put a hand on his knee.

“Claude is going to be fine. Marianne is a talented healer, and Claude’s Crest is strong. I’m going to go tend to him myself, too, after we’re done here. When he’s well again, you won’t even know anything happened at all,” she promised him. That… did help. The knowledge that Claude would bear no scar from what Dimitri had done. But there was still one important thing he had to know.

“Claude… doesn’t hate me?” he asked, and Byleth sighed gently as Felix rolled his eyes.

“You know the answer to that one, too, boar,” he spoke up. “You know that Riegan could _never_ hate you.”

“He might,” Dimitri whispered, but Byleth squeezed his knee again.

“He doesn’t,” she said. “I promise you, he doesn’t. But let’s talk about you, now, Dimitri, and what can be done to help you,” she said. “You understand now that the things you see… that the ghosts that haunt you, they aren’t real, yes?” she asked. Felix stared at him _hard_ even though Dimitri nodded right away this time. “But you have still seen them,” she said, and Dimitri slowly nodded again. Byleth hummed. “You have seen them… since Duscur?” she asked. Again Dimitri nodded.

“Okay,” Byleth said. “It’s okay, Dimitri. It’s nothing to be frightened about,” she said. “Trauma like that can do strange things to our minds and bodies. Things that, I’m afraid, we don’t understand all about yet. But there are ways to help,” she said. “Medicines that can help keep you calm and stop the visions from plaguing you,” she said. “Things that will help you see the world in color again, that will help stop the terrible thoughts… nothing that can perform a miracle, I’m afraid. But definitely things that can _help,_ ” she said. “Do you think you would be willing to try some of those?” she asked. When Dimitri nodded, his eye had been on her beaming smile. He didn’t have time to notice Felix come flying out of his chair at him again until he had an armful of the other man. Felix was shaking him again, shaking him to try and cover up the fact that, really, he was _hugging_ him.

“Yes,” Felix whispered, watery. “Yes, oh, Goddess, Dimitri, _finally_ …”

“Felix,” Byleth said, and there was a light laugh in her tone as Felix drew himself away again and swiped almost angrily at his eyes.

“Shut up,” he responded to his wife. “Just shut up and let me be happy for him,” he insisted. Byleth smiled and let Felix stay there on the floor by Dimitri as she continued.

“Now, we might have to experiment a little-” she started, but Dimitri went tense and Felix _hissed_ at her and she swiftly caught herself. “No. No, I’m sorry, that was entirely the wrong word,” she said. “What I mean is, it may take a bit of trial-and-error for us to figure out what medicine, exactly, is going to help you best, Dimitri,” she said. Calming himself, Dimitri slowly nodded. “We may go through a few before we find something that works, but I promise, none of them will harm you,” she said. “They’re made to be safe.”

“Okay,” Dimitri said. Byleth smiled.

“I should tell you, there are a few we’ll try which might not seem like they’re working at first. Some might seem to make things worse before things get better. The reason for that is because these medicines don’t start working instantly. It can sometimes take a while for them to work their way into your body, and sometimes, you might begin feeling the negative side effects before the positive benefits start,” she explained. “Things like tremors, upset stomach, headaches… those sorts of things are probably going to happen,” she said. Dimitri hummed.

“I’ve dealt with worse,” he said, and Felix slapped him on the back in approval. Dimitri grunted, and Felix huffed.

“Sorry. Still don’t know my own strength, yet,” he excused. Dimitri _almost_ smiled.

“I’ve brought the medicines with me, Dimitri. We had hoped that you might agree to this,” Byleth said. “We can begin whenever you are ready to,” she said, and Dimitri sat up straighter.

This… this felt like the right thing to choose. For the first time in a very long time, Dimitri felt _confident_ that he was doing the right thing. This was what his father would have wanted. Glenn, Ingrid, Sylvain, Dedue… they would have wanted this for him, too. The terrible demons inside his head weren’t real, Felix had _proven_ it. He could stop. He could stop torturing himself with wondering what the dead wanted, and _choose_ to do what he _knew_ they did. This… this felt right.

“Now,” Dimitri said. “I want to start now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> Is Felix out of character? Maybe a little. Do I care? Not one little bit.
> 
> This chapter is a bit self-indulgent... before this fic, I hadn't written anything for myself since I was diagnosed with depression in 2016. This chapter explores a little bit of what it was like for me, too, starting therapy. Catharsis is the only name this chapter could ever have.
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading up this far! And don't worry too much about Claude - we'll see him again next chapter!


	10. Healing

Someone was dabbing his face with a wet cloth.

That was the first thing Claude processed as he slowly dragged himself back to consciousness. He was burning up and his head was killing him but there was a damp cloth being dabbed gently across his forehead that made the pain slightly more tolerable. He groaned and tried to open his eyes, but it felt like there were wyverns holding them down. Still, whoever was there beside him seemed to realize he was awake, because their thumb caressed gently over his brow as they shushed him.

“Shh. Just lay still, Claude. Don’t push yourself. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

Claude recognized that voice, even at the soft volume it spoke to him in. But his normally sharp mind was lagging, and he still couldn’t process anything besides the fact that he was waking up and that there was someone with him. He had to know who it was. Claude hated unknowns, and there was nothing more dangerous than a stranger when he was this weak and vulnerable. He tried desperately to open his eyes again, feeling himself starting to pant and sweat from the effort. His tongue felt like it was made of stone as he tried to move it enough to voice the only question on his mind. _Who?_

“Shh, shh, Claude,” the voice came back again. Female. He knew this voice. And they knew him well, too, because she immediately figured out what the problem was. “It’s okay. It’s only me, Byleth,” she spoke, and Claude relaxed. His breathing steadied again and the cloth came back, dabbing across his bare collarbone as he shivered and sweated.

“I used a healing spell on you,” she said, ever so quietly. “I didn’t expect you to stir. It’s nothing short of a miracle that you’re conscious already…” she murmured, and Claude managed a weak moan in reply. It didn’t feel like a miracle. It felt like hell. What had happened…? What was Teach doing here? At least he could figure that second one out. Whatever had happened to him, it had been _bad_. They’d had to call in the Goddess-chosen herself for some healing spells. So it was _bad_.

Byleth kept tending to him, dabbing away his sweat as he laid there and focused on breathing through the pain. His injuries were screaming for him to pass out again, but there was something else. Something he felt like he was forgetting, something important, something he needed to be awake for… but it was so hard to think through the haze of fever. He could feel his Crest working overtime, making his blood boil and it was horrible. The heavy blanket which lay atop him was smothering. His arm twitched as he tried to get it off, and Byleth’s hand came to his shoulder to try and hold him still.

“What is it?” she breathed, and Claude groaned again. He managed to get his arm to flop weakly and shove the blanket down an inch and he shivered. Byleth took the message in the opposite direction and pulled the blanket up to his chin for him, and he let out a low whine. He tried to get his lips to form protests but when he tried to move his jaw pain _exploded_ in his head and he found himself screaming hoarsely.

“I know, I know, don’t move,” Byleth told him, her voice raising a bit. “You really shouldn’t be awake yet. Don’t move, Claude. Don’t move.” He felt her hands come to his temples as he breathed raggedly and suddenly his skull was washed in white magic. The powerful healing spell rocketed through him with such force it made his limbs spring on reflex. He could feel his Crest surging forward in response to the magic and he heard terrible, terrible popping sounds in his jaw that hurt horribly, and he let out another strangled scream. But this was the kind of hurt that came with healing. The Chosen One’s spell put healing magic into him and his Crest knew what to do with that. It reshaped his jaw and put the bone back into place as though nothing had ever happened. It wasn’t a miracle cure-all; he still had healing to go. But at least he could move his jaw again.

“There…” Byleth gasped above him. She took her hands from his temples and there was the sound of her hitting the floor. Claude wanted to get up and help her but his body still wasn’t working for him so all he could do was let out a pitiful-sounding whine. It wasn’t the first time Teach had overused her power and fainted. At least he knew that she would be safe here until she woke up again, because he couldn’t move to help her. Already unconsciousness was pulling him back down as his Crest receded, and he had no choice but to fall into oblivion.

…

… …

… … …

Someone was dabbing his face with a wet cloth.

He was coming up from unconsciousness again, but that was still the first realization he had. They were humming softly this time, too, a melody that Claude recognized from the Monastery. It was a lullaby that the Archbishop had once hummed often, but he knew that it wasn’t Rhea tending him at his bedside. No, this had to be Teach again.

This time, Claude was able to slowly blink open his eyes to confirm his guess. There she was, Professor Byleth Eisner, clearing the sweat from his brow as he slowly came to. She smiled gently at him.

“Welcome back, Claude,” she whispered, and Claude’s lips twitched towards a smile. But, gods, his jaw still ached. He felt the bruise of a lifetime on his cheek, spreading all the way up past his temple and to his brow, making his left eye swell shut. There was a sling wrapped around his face that was holding his jaw lightly in place and ice packed around his shoulders and temples. At least it seemed like someone had gotten the message that he _didn’t_ want to be burning up.

“Just hold still,” Byleth told him. “You’re still recovering. But, wow, is your Crest stronger than I thought,” she commented, “They’re sure it isn’t major?” she asked, and Claude managed a weak laugh. Yeah, it had been saving his life since he was in the cradle. But feeling it thrumming in his blood now, he still had to wonder, how had he gotten in this condition…? Damn, head trauma really messed with his ability to think. He closed his eyes again and breathed.

“Do you think you can manage some broth, Claude? Your power is keeping you alive but I know you can’t keep running on empty forever,” Byleth said. “I’ll help you. We’ll go slow. Try for me,” she said, and it wasn’t a question, so Claude knew that he would be getting broth whether he agreed or not. Sure enough, he felt a tiny spoonful of warm liquid trickle slowly into his mouth, and when he managed to swallow, Byleth praised him.

“That’s it. Just like that,” she said, and Claude managed a scoff. Byleth laughed softly. “Don’t give me that,” she said. “We both know how much you like to be praised. I seem to recall someone telling me that ‘they could get used to it’,” she said, and Claude’s lips twitched towards a smile again. Byleth shook her head down at him. She fed him a few more spoonfuls, smiling, before she spoke again. “Well, at least everyone will be happy to hear that you’re in good spirits,” she said. “Dimitri especially.”

Claude remembered!

Immediately he was sucking in a deep breath and trying to pick himself up from his bed. Dimitri, what must he be thinking right now? What must he be doing with himself? Claude could only imagine the most horrible possibilities. The whole time he’d been here, only Claude had been able to drag him from the depths of his depression, coax him to eat and drink and soothe him to sleep. He hated to think that Dimitri had grown dependent on him but he knew that it was true. What the hell was Dimitri going to do without him? Teach said that it had already been three days, and that was _last_ time he woke up! How long had it been, now?

“Woah, woah, Claude, lie down!” Byleth commanded him, and as she took firm hold of his shoulders and pressed him to the mattress, Claude had to relent. He wasn’t even strong enough to sit up. What good would he be to Dimitri like this? He’d only terrify him in this state – no, it was good that they were apart. Dimitri couldn’t see him like this.

“Hold still, just hold still…” Byleth was whispering now, her grip slowly easing as she saw that Claude no longer struggled against her. Claude breathed.

“Dima?” he murmured, curling the end of the word upwards so that it was a question. Byleth offered him a small smile and she went back to dribbling more broth into his mouth.

“He’s okay, Claude. He’s going to be okay,” she said. That was all Claude needed to hear. He could demand explanations later, but right now, his head was beginning to pound from the exertion of trying to sit up. He couldn’t do that yet. He had to hold still. So he relaxed as best he could and let his Teach nurse him back to health.

“You two will be back together in no time,” she promised him. “Just focus on healing, Claude. That’s what Dimitri’s doing. It’s okay. You’re both going to be just fine…” she whispered, and Claude _breathed._ So long as Dimitri was healing, he could rest. So long as Dimitri was okay…

“Oh, there he goes again,” was the last thing Claude heard Byleth say as he passed out once more.


	11. Healing (Slowly)

Dimitri had been plagued with migraines ever since Duscur. They usually came on to him due to lack of sleep, or forgetting to eat or drink for extended periods of time. But this new medicine had brought one on, too, on a level he had never experienced. His headaches before had been manageable, something that he could shove to the back of his mind and bear silently. But these… these were like nothing he had ever experienced. Light hurt. Moving made him dizzy. Sitting up made him feel like he was going to vomit. And he was _shaking._ He hated the shaking most of all.

At least noise didn’t seem to bother him too much, because Felix wasn’t being exactly quiet. He’d come into Dimitri’s room about two minutes ago, setting up the teapot and brewing in the herbs that Dimitri now took as medicine. Four days ago Dimitri had started the treatment, and like Byleth had told him, there hadn’t been much of an effect at first. He’d just drink the brew in his tea in the morning and again at evening, and he really hadn’t noticed anything different for those few days. This morning, though, about thirty minutes after he’d drank his tea, a pounding had started up in his temples. At first, he’d treated it like any other headache – by ignoring it. But slowly over the course of the day, it had just gotten worse and worse, until now when he was laying in bed and whimpering because the sunset was shining in his eye, but he didn’t think he could cross the room to close the curtain without puking. Shaky hands held his blankets tight against his brow, pulling on them hard because the pressure against his forehead helped a bit with the throbbing between his ears. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, all he could do was lay there and shake. It felt like when he was a child and had caught wyvern pox, except this time at least he wasn’t burning up with fever. Still, the pain in his head made him break out in a cold sweat and he was _shaking_. He hated the shaking.

“It’s time for your next dose, boar,” Felix finally spoke, and Dimitri let out a low groan. He didn’t want another dose. The Professor had warned him that he’d get side effects before benefits, but he hadn’t expected them to be _this_ bad. He didn’t expect it to feel like he had started _poisoning_ himself instead of started treatment. He heard Felix coming across the room with the teacup, sitting it down on the end table by the bed.

“I can and will make you come out of hiding. You know I’m strong enough,” Felix threatened. “Don’t be a child. Don’t quit now,” he said, reaching for the blanket and jerking it back. Dimitri yowled, closing his eye tightly and covering his face with his hands as he gritted his teeth, shaking.

He _hated_ the shaking.

“The light,” he protested weakly. “It hurts. Please, Felix…” he begged. For a couple seconds, there was silence. Then there was the sound of Felix moving across the room. A soft sliding and a ‘clink’ as Felix pulled the curtains closed, but as Dimitri peeked up from his hands, it was still too bright. He whimpered and slowly rolled to put his back to the window, pressing his face into his pillows. He heard Felix start to move again, heard the soft shift of fabric being pulled. Then, after a moment more, Felix spoke again.

“There. That should be better.”

Slowly, Dimitri chanced peeking up at the room again, and he found it almost entirely dark, now. Turning onto his back once again, he saw that Felix had taken off his cloak and used it to cover the window, blocking out the rest of the light that the curtains hadn’t. Felix stayed by the window for an extra moment, making sure his cape wouldn’t fall when he moved away, and then he turned and came back over to Dimitri’s bedside.

“Headaches?” he asked, and Dimitri started to nod, but that only made the room spin. He squeezed his eye tightly closed and groaned.

“Yes,” he whispered, and Felix huffed.

“They’ll get better. You’re going through the worst of it, now,” he assured, and Dimitri groaned again at another wave of pain that decided _now_ was the time to roll through his skull. He trembled.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“I had them, too,” was Felix’s reply as he reached for Dimitri’s teacup. “Now, open up. Sit up as best as you can and drink this,” he instructed. “I’ll hold it. Hands shaking like yours are, you’d just spill it everywhere and I’d have to make another,” he said. Dimitri gathered himself, taking time to breathe before he got his elbows underneath him and lifted his head. He didn’t open his eye, just his mouth, and let Felix pour the tonic in. Once he’d drank it all down, he collapsed back onto the pillows, lifting both arms to press against his forehead as his eyes watered.

“You drink this concoction, too?” Dimitri asked as Felix carried the teacup back to the table. The silver-haired man hummed a noise in the positive.

“A lot of us do, boar. We survived a _war_ ,” he said. “…don’t think anyone has as strong a dose as you do, though,” he commented. Dimitri heard him pouring more tea into the cup, which he brought back to the bedside. “Sit up,” he ordered, and Dimitri _pouted_.

“I only take one,” he protested, but Felix clicked his tongue.

“This isn’t more of the tonic. You need to hydrate,” he said. “It’ll help your head.” With that hope extended, Dimitri took a deep breath and pushed himself onto his elbows again, letting Felix tip the tea between his lips. He drank it down and managed to lay back with more grace this time, breathing through his mouth as he felt his mind thrumming.

“Why does it hurt?” he heard himself ask. He hated how small and weak his voice sounded. How shaky he was. He _hated, hated, hated_ the shaking.

“The herbs are stimulating a part of your brain that hasn’t worked right for a long time, now,” Felix explained, stepping across the room again to the table. Dimitri heard him messing about with something over there, but he didn’t feel like opening his eye to watch. “Your head hurts because it’s re-learning how to function. You’re shaking because you’re being stimulated. Your body doesn’t know how to react to what’s happening, yet. But it’ll learn,” Felix said. “Once your body and mind adapt, the headaches will stop,” he said. “Until then, you just have to deal with it. This is the worst part,” he said.

Dimitri heard Felix coming back over towards the bed, and just a moment later, he got one of the biggest shocks of his life as an ice pack was dropped onto his forehead. His eye flew open and began to water and he _shook_ , but a small miracle happened as the frigid cold seeped into his skin. The pounding became suddenly so much less severe that Dimitri almost wept in relief.

“Close your eye,” Felix instructed next, and Dimitri obeyed. As soon as he had, he heard Felix mutter to himself, and then, even with his eye closed, Dimitri saw a sudden, bright flash of light and felt a wave of heat. Felix pulled his blanket up to his chin again, and then atop the fabric he sat two burning hot stones right by Dimitri’s neck. The heat and the cold combined worked wonders against his headache, and he felt himself breathing evenly for the first time in hours.

“Those should stay warm for a while,” Felix told him. “My Fire spells might not be the strongest, but they linger,” he said. “You lay there. Do you think you can eat anything?” he asked.

“No,” Dimitri answered honestly, and Felix grunted, sounding unsurprised. Dimitri opened his eye again to watch Felix move back over to the table, collecting the dinner he’d brought in with him and putting it back onto the tray so he could take it with him when he left. Seemed like he wasn’t too keen on feeding Dimitri himself, but Dimitri didn’t mind. He really didn’t think he could stomach anything. He realized, though, as Felix picked everything up, that he intended to leave. That made sense. Dimitri probably looked like he needed to rest. But… after five long years of loneliness, Dimitri had grown to detest being alone. It felt different than asking Claude to stay – but then again, he’d never had to _ask_ Claude, had he? Still… he didn’t want Felix to go.

“Will you stay?” he asked softly, and Felix paused, hands stopping what they were doing mid-air. Dimitri could see Felix thinking about it, his eyes cutting over in Dimitri’s direction and offering him a quiet glare. He thought that the other would refuse, claim he was busy, and go on his way. Much to his surprise, Felix instead exhaled through his nose, picked up a chair, and brought it over to Dimitri’s bedside. Wordlessly, he sat. It was quiet for a while. But then, Dimitri spoke. “…when did you learn magic?” he asked, and Felix scoffed a small laugh.

“When you’ve got the Professor as your wife, there’s plenty of time to study new things,” he said. Dimitri hummed.

“She’s your wife, and you still call her ‘the Professor’?” he asked. Again, Felix scoffed, this one sounding less playful.

“I call her other things when we’re alone. But if I don’t call her ‘the Professor’ in public, people rarely know who I’m talking about without an explanation. It’s easier,” he said. He scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor. “Though, I expect everyone will get used to calling her ‘the Empress’ soon enough. We’ve already got the former Empire and Kingdom assimilated. Things are only stalling out here because Riegan hasn’t made it to a meeting to propose the final motion to dissolve the Alliance and join the rest of Fodlan under the Professor’s rule,” he said. Dimitri hummed softly.

“How is… Claude?” he asked, and Felix looked over to him again, offering him what Dimitri thought was supposed to be a reassuring glance.

“On the mend. You cracked the man’s skull and shattered his jaw, it would have laid any ordinary person out for weeks and weeks,” he said. “Lucky for you and him both, he’s got a Healing Crest. The Professor expects that he’ll be back up and on his feet like nothing happened in just a few more days,” he said. He turned his gaze back to the wall. “You’ll see him soon enough, I expect. …he’s asked about you, too,” he thought to mention, and Dimitri felt his chest go warm with that sentiment. Claude was the one who had almost died. Yet he was still worried about _Dimitri_.

“What did the Professor tell him about me?” he asked. “About… all of this?” Felix gave a shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there. She just mentioned to me that I should mention to you that Riegan mentioned you,” he said. Those words, though, made Dimitri realize something. He hadn’t seen the Professor much over the last couple days because she had been tending to Claude. He hadn’t seen Marianne, either. Just Felix. _Felix_ was the one looking after him, and Dimitri had to wonder… had Felix _volunteered_ for that job? The man never did anything he didn’t want to do. And so that had to mean…

“What? Why are you looking at me like that, boar?” Felix asked suddenly, and Dimitri realized he’d been staring. He blinked once, and then felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards for the first time in a very long time. It wasn’t a full smile. But it was present nonetheless.

“You _care_ about me,” Dimitri accused, and Felix spluttered.

“How _dare_ you!” was the man’s ever-so-intelligent reply. He balled up his fist and smacked the blankets, but Dimitri could tell that Felix wasn’t angry. If he was angry, he would have broken the bed with that strike. That was how his – their – Crest worked. When emotions ran high, the power ran out of control. Dimitri had never been good at reading people. But he knew himself quite well, and now… there was a part of himself that he shared with Felix, too.

“I won’t tell anybody,” Dimitri assured, closing his eye, which still left Felix stammering indignantly, flustered and flailing. Dimitri peeked open his eye again, and hummed softly. “…be careful, or you _will_ break something,” he muttered, and Felix _immediately_ stopped. That… too, resonated with Dimitri. That sudden halting, that sudden wariness. Dimitri could feel the fear creeping up Felix’s throat as surely as though it were his own. Felix breathed deep and leaned back in his chair again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I used to think you were a beast, you know,” Felix muttered, and Dimitri grunted. Oh, yes, he was _quite aware_ of that. Felix had made that _very clear_. But now, he was shaking his head. “It isn’t _just_ you, though. It isn’t you and what you’ve been through that makes you beastly. You have the power of a monster inside of you,” he said. He dropped his hands into his lap and stared at his upturned palms. Dimitri knew what he was thinking without Felix even saying it. _And now, I do, too._

“It can be… controlled,” Dimitri said quietly. “I managed to do it. I just… stopped trying, for a while,” he said. Felix nodded. Of course he remembered that. _Everyone_ remembered that. “But… emotions… get in the way of control, sometimes.” Felix sighed softly and tipped his head back.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m not immune to emotion, you know. Far from it,” he sighed. He was quiet for a long while, then clenched his fists and sat back up. “But if there is any _one_ good thing that came from Shambhala, at least it’s that we know, now, what this Crest is for,” he said, and looked to Dimitri like he was supposed to understand.

Dimitri didn’t, though, and the questioning look in his expression made Felix scoff again. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? If the Crest of Fraldarius is a Crest meant for defending yourself, the Crest of Blaiddyd is a Crest meant for defending others,” he said. “You have _never_ been stronger than when you were trying to protect me,” he said, and Dimitri’s eye widened. A Crest… made for protecting others?

He had never thought of it that way. All his life he’d feared his strength and what it could do. The harm it could inflict, even on accident. Yes, he was strong, but that strength came at the terrible price of being near-unlimited, and when Dimitri couldn’t control it, it… _hurt_ people. Bad people like those mages that had experimented on himself and Felix, and good people like Claude. It didn’t discriminate. Never once had he thought it had a purpose beyond _hurting people_.

Felix, though, seemed to think differently. He turned slightly in his chair, reaching out to grab Dimitri’s chin. “I really don’t think you’re a beast, anymore,” he said. “Beasts don’t feel grief. They don’t feel remorse. But you’re full of more grief and remorse than anyone else in the world, aren’t you?” he asked. “But here’s the thing, Dimitri. Grief and remorse won’t make you better,” he said. “Wallowing and whining don’t help. Your strength and mine has a purpose. I’m using mine to help my wife rebuild Fodlan. You’ve got to ask yourself: how are you going to use yours? Because it’s not meant for hurting. It’s meant for protecting,” he said. He let go of Dimitri’s chin and stood. It seemed like Felix was going to leave him with those thoughts as he picked up his chair again and took it back to the table.

“You should sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up,” he said. “If you’re hungry then, call for me. I haven’t got much better to do,” he said. He picked up the tray and went to the door. Before stepping out, though, he glanced back once more. Dimitri thought, maybe, he had something else to say. But Felix just turned away again and slipped from the room. The latch clicked and Dimitri knew he was safe. He closed his eyes, and he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit more therapeutic writing for me in this one. :)
> 
> Again, is Felix a bit OOC? Maybe. But I like my characters soft, so sue me.


	12. Together

It had been far too long since Claude had seen Dimitri. They’d gone longer before, of course. Five and a half years of thinking that Dimitri was dead, then alive, then dead again had been a torture that Claude hadn’t allowed himself to feel because so many other, more important things had been going on in the world in front of him. He’d had a country to lead, a war to endure, and an impossible dream to protect. There had been so much more to do besides pine over puppy love.

That was then, though, and this was now. And now was when Claude was walking down the hallway of his manor in Derdriu after near two weeks of recovering from head trauma, right back into the arms of the person who’d inflicted it. Sure, he was well aware that the servants and guards he passed thought he was crazy. But those whose opinions really mattered already knew why this was happening, and they were all _happy_ to see him back. Nothing could keep Claude down for long.

As he reached Dimitri’s doorway, he balanced the tea tray on his hip and unlocked the door with the key from his belt. He stepped inside as he heard Dimitri shifting on the bed, likely waking up. He was on medication, now, Teach had told him. Something that was supposed to help, and while they were still in the early stages of getting the mixture right, the results so far had been positive. Dimitri’d been down with headaches a few days ago, and he was feeling some fatigue as his body adjusted to a new normal. But Teach had told him all of this with a smile on her face and hope in her eyes, so Claude believed that whatever she’d prescribed Dimitri would be good for him in the end. A few more weeks would be needed to find out for sure, but Felix had said he seemed to be more active already. He said that Dimitri had even _smiled_.

Claude was jealous, honestly. To think that the first person to see Dimitri smile after everything he’d been through would be _Felix,_ and not him. Oh, well, he’d decided. Felix might have gotten the first one, but Claude was certain that he was going to get the most from Dimitri in the days to come. And that made him feel a bit better about missing the first.

He finished setting the table as he heard Dimitri stretch and sigh and sit up, and looked over just in time to see the prince’s face when he saw that it was Claude standing in his room. And, oh, Dimitri’s face was beautiful. His eye widened and his expression was of something like rapture to see Claude standing there, backlit by the sunset. He _sprang_ from the bed and ran to him, reaching for his face, but his hands stalled. Claude saw uncertainty creep into Dimitri’s features but he quickly banished it by reaching up to grab Dimitri’s wrists himself and pull him in, resting one large hand on either side of his own head. Dimitri let out a shaky breath.

And then, he _smiled._

Claude felt his heart soar, and soon the rest of him was soaring, too, as Dimitri suddenly grabbed him about the middle and lifted his feet off the ground and spun with him, hugging him tightly as Claude wrapped his arms around Dimitri’s shoulders and held on for dear life and _laughed_. “Dima!” he said. Dimitri eventually stopped spinning, but then he was just walking backwards until his legs hit the side of his bed and he sat down, clinging to Claude and hiding his face in his shoulder as Claude sat in his lap and played with his hair.

“I feel like I was missed,” Claude teased gently, and Dimitri hummed out a chuckle and squeezed him just a bit tighter as though to say ‘ _you were’_. Claude’s heart was leaping in his chest as he let Dimitri just hold him, biting at his bottom lip to keep his smile from splitting his face. This was the most animated and happy Dimitri had been since before the war, he was certain of it. And joy fluttered inside of him to know that _he_ was the cause of all this fuss. Slowly, he managed to coax Dimitri’s head up from his shoulder with a murmured “I want to see you.” He brushed back Dimitri’s golden hair and looked into his eye, shining bright with warmth and affection and _relief._ It looked so much like the eyes he had seen on Prince Dimitri all those years ago that it made Claude feel more hopeful about the prince’s recovery than _anything_.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and rose rushed up to meet his fingertips where they rested on Dimitri’s cheekbone. Dimitri tucked his chin a little and Claude just chuckled, tapping the end of Dimitri’s nose with his thumb. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” Dimitri returned, and Claude hummed.

“Well, I asked first, so let’s hear your answer, and then I’ll tell you mine,” he said. Dimitri seemed to accept this, even if he was quiet for a little bit longer. It seemed he was trying to find the right words to use, struggling with language for a moment as he tried to answer Claude.

“Better,” he finally said, squeezing Claude closer again. Claude quirked his brow, hoping Dimitri would elaborate, but unfortunately, he had no such luck. “What about you?” Dimitri asked instead, and Claude gave an impish little smile.

“Oh, better,” he said with an airy shrug. Dimitri scrunched his face up at him and Claude laughed. He knew that Dimitri loved the sound of his voice. After a worrying two weeks apart, he figured the other was probably dying to hear it again. He let out a soft breath, his smile dampening a bit as he took on a more somber air. Claude reached a hand behind his back for one of Dimitri’s and brought it to his left cheek. It had once been the point of impact, but now Claude willingly tilted his head into Dimitri’s touch. Claude showed no one such absolute trust. No one but Dimitri.

“It hurt like hell,” he confessed, and Dimitri’s brow creased as he hummed, but Claude covered Dimitri’s hand with his own so he wouldn’t even _think_ about pulling it away. He knew it had reassured the prince when he felt Dimitri’s finger draw a gentle circle on his temple. “But I know you didn’t mean to. If anything, it was _my_ fault,” he pointed out. “You were panicking, and I threw myself at you. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, and Dimitri hummed again.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he said. “Don’t ever do that again, please,” he said. Claude chuckled.

“Oh, trust me, I don’t intend to…”

“I’m not joking, Claude,” Dimitri said. “I could have easily killed you. Had my fist landed three inches higher, I would have given you permanent brain damage. Had it landed three inches lower, I would have snapped your neck. I could have _killed you_ ,” he said, and Claude felt his smile drop with just how serious Dimitri was. He let out a breath, and let his defenses fall. The change must have shown on his face, because Dimitri reacted to it. He curled his fingers into Claude’s hair and held him _tight_ around the middle.

“I know. I know, Dimitri. And I mean it. I’m not going to let something like that happen again,” Claude said firmly. “I’ve _definitely_ learned my lesson. I’ll be smarter next time. If we’re lucky, and your medicine works, there might not even be a _next time_. That’s the hope, right?” he asked, and Dimitri’s expression softened as he nodded.

“Thank you, Kahleed,” he said, and Claude felt like he was glowing. He tipped his head forward and rested his forehead against Dimitri’s, breathing the same air.

“Tell me, do I really look so different when I tell ‘Claude’ to get out of the way?” he asked. He must, he figured. Claude was the mask he wore for all of Fodlan. Claude was calculating, scheming, and manipulative. Claude measured every risk and exploited any gain. Claude never did anything that didn’t benefit himself in some way.

Khalid was different. Sure, he was still smart. He knew how to think on his feet and spin his words to catch everyone’s ears. But Khalid did stupid things, too. Stupid, stupid things like fall head over heels in love with the Prince of Faerghus.

“Yes,” Dimitri answered. His fingers slid slowly through Khalid’s hair. “Kahleed has honest eyes, too,” he spoke. Khalid opened his eyes and pulled back so he could see Dimitri’s face. That compliment he’d used on the other so many years ago… he still remembered it. And he must have treasured it if he was now turning it around on him.

“Khalid can afford to be honest,” he said. “Khalid can afford to trust. I _trust_ you, Dimitri,” he said softly. “I trust you.” Those words won him another smile from Dimitri, who took the chance to press his forehead against the other’s for another long moment. They breathed together. They were together.

Slowly, hesitantly, Claude pulled away. He smiled and reached up to play with a strand of Dimitri’s hair. “I brought dinner, you know,” he said. “Dinner, and your medicine. We’ve got to get up from here,” he said. Dimitri frowned but nodded. He loosened his grip around Claude and let him stand, and then he did the same. The two wandered over to the table and Dimitri sat and drank down his tea. “What’s the taste like?” Claude asked as he sat down, lifting the teapot to replace Dimitri’s now empty cup with something that he assumed the other would like much more. “Awful?”

“I… don’t have much of a sense of taste, actually,” Dimitri responded. “Ever since Duscur. My hands, too, are clumsier than they once were,” he said, and Claude got up. They were eating steak tonight. He had been told that Dimitri’s wrists were fully healed now, so he hadn’t bothered cutting the food for Dimitri. Having this new information in mind, though, he crossed to Dimitri’s side of the table and began to cut it for him. Dimitri stared at him with surprise. “What… are you doing?” he asked.

“Cutting your food, Dima,” he said. “It’ll just take me a second.” Dimitri allowed it, watching Claude’s fingers work. As promised, it only took him a couple moments and then he was moving back over to his own plate. Dimitri was still watching him, though, his eye going between Claude’s hands and his cut food.

“…how long have you been doing that for me?” he asked, and Claude cracked a smile. He didn’t say so out loud, but he was surprised Dimitri even put together the fact that all of the food delivered by Claude before had been pre-cut.

“A while,” he answered vaguely. Dimitri looked down at his plate, then back up, the slightest bit pink.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“I don’t do things that I don’t want to, Dima. You know that,” he said, and now even the tips of Dimitri’s ears took on the blush, too. He nodded and picked up his fork.

“Thank you,” he said. Claude grinned and went back to his own meal, but surprise rushed through him as he felt Dimitri’s foot nudge against his under the table. Claude looked up again, but Dimitri was studiously avoiding his gaze, face starting to look more and more like a strawberry. Claude smiled and nudged back, but called no further attention to the move as he started to eat.

“I’m so pleased to see you looking this much better, Dima,” he spoke after he swallowed. Dimitri was eating and Claude didn’t wait for a reply. This was how their meals usually went. Dimitri would eat, and Claude would fill the silence. Claude’s voice made Dimitri _happy_. And when it cost him nothing, why shouldn’t Claude make Dimitri happy? “When Teach told me that she’d started with that special tea to help you out, I figured she must be on to something. She’s sharp, after all. But I admit, I didn’t expect to see the change so quickly,” he said. He felt bold and nudged Dimitri’s foot under the table once again. He smiled when he saw Dimitri jump and the blush that had just started to tame down came rushing back. “I don’t expect it’ll all be smooth sailing,” he said. “I know that there are still going to be rough days. I’ve been told about the headaches,” he said. “But I’m more than prepared to help you with those, and anything else you need… we’ll get through this,” he said.

“…how long do you intend to do this, Claude?” Dimitri suddenly spoke up, and the question took Claude by surprise. Between the two of them, he was the one that usually asked questions like that. _He_ was usually the suspicious one. Not Dimitri. But the prince lifted his gaze and fixed his single eye upon him and there was something so sad in his expression. “You have… don’t you have better things to do?” he asked softly. “You can’t mean to imply that you’re… going to be with me _always_ ,” he said. “Good things like this don’t last for me. I know that this can’t, too,” he spoke, and his voice quivered slightly.

Khalid sat his utensils down on his plate. He stood and crossed the small distance between them, shoving the table aside so he could place himself in Dimitri’s hold once again. He straddled his legs and wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulders. “I’m about to be very, very honest with you, Dimitri,” he said softly. “Very, very, _dangerously_ honest,” he said. He pulled back, holding Dimitri’s gaze with his own. “Dima, I don’t think you could get rid of me if you _tried,_ ” he said. “I… have things to do,” he agreed. “Claude has things to do, for sure. But I… _me_ ,” he said, stressing the word in the hopes that Dimitri understood. “Me, someone who’s always held the world at arm’s distance and questioned _everything_ for the lies and harm it could bring, have found myself unable to think of a happy future that doesn’t include you, too,” he said. “I _want_ you with me. I do. I really, _really_ do. And that’s the _truth_ ,” he whispered. He cupped his hands against Dimitri’s cheeks. “Do you understand that, Dima?” he asked. “Do you understand?”

Dimitri’s eye was starting to water, Khalid realized. But when Dimitri nodded, it was with a smile. “I understand,” he whispered. “I understand, Kahleed.”

Khalid smiled back at Dimitri, and for a moment, his gaze dropped to Dimitri’s lips. He _thought about it_. But he worried… he worried that it might be too much. Dimitri had a lot on his plate, and a long way to go, still. Baby steps were what seemed safest.

So Claude stood after gently wiping a few of Dimitri’s tears and put some distance between them. He let Dimitri breathe. He went back to his meal. A couple minutes later, he found something else to talk about. It didn’t matter what; all that mattered was the starry-eyed look that Dimitri kept sending his way. Even after all these years, this prince was still too good to be true. Khalid loved him. Claude protected him. And together, they would make sure that nothing, _nothing_ ever harmed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaaaaaay they're back together! :3


	13. Friend

Things were starting to look up for Dimitri. Of course, he figured that when a person had hit rock bottom as hard as he had, up was really the only way to go. Before, though, that had seemed impossible.

Now, it didn’t just seem possible. It felt like it was already happening. He was clawing his way up from the depths of a deep, dark hole towards the light. And he felt like there were hands all around him, pushing and pulling and supporting him all the way up. If he got tired, he could lean on those hands, and they’d hold him. He no longer felt like his days were being spent in an endless downward spiral. He felt like he was making _progress_.

The people around him seemed to sense that, as well. Marianne no longer looked at him with such sad empathy, Felix’s glares were less harsh, Byleth smiled at him all the time, and Claude’s eyes shone with _pride_ whenever he was around Dimitri. Claude’s smiles warmed him and lifted him up. He felt _incredible_.

Still, though, life continued on as it had for the past couple months since getting rescued from Shambhala. Despite his progress, Dimitri still kept to himself and to the four walls of his own little room. He had visitors aplenty, but he never left the room himself. Besides the one time he’d been forced to leave so he could get Claude the help he needed, he hadn’t left the room at all. It wasn’t like it was stagnant. The window let in plenty of fresh air off the sea, and plenty of sunlight to keep him warm. He was taking better care of himself, too. He washed himself and let Marianne change his bedsheets and wore the fresh laundry she brought him. It was mostly yellows and greens he wore these days, in soft, loose cotton. The only thing he didn’t really manage to keep up with was his hair. It had grown long and untamed during his years hiding in the wilderness, and he’d never learned how to manage his new mane. No one seemed to mind that, though. In fact, Claude played with his hair often. So long as Dimitri could still see past it, he didn’t really care what his hair wanted to do. He was content with the way things were.

After a few more weeks of this routine, however, it seemed like Claude thought it was time to begin pushing Dimitri towards the next step. In the morning when Claude came in with breakfast and Dimitri’s medicine, he chatted at him as usual. He was all smiles and animated gestures, and always seemed so, so _pleased_ whenever Dimitri engaged with him in return. The conversation went as usual, Claude talking about everything and nothing, until there suddenly came a pause in the constant stream of chatter. Dimitri looked up from his omelet to find Claude just staring across the table at him, expression warm.

“What?” Dimitri questioned, feeling his cheeks going warm already just from the intensity of Claude’s eyes.

“I’ve got a proposition for you, Dimitri,” he began. Claude reached across the table and took hold of Dimitri’s wrist, which made the prince swallow nervously. There was something about the way he phrased the sentence that made him feel uneasy. Like Claude expected Dimitri to not like whatever he said next. “Well, technically, I suppose it’s Hilda’s proposition. You see, for the past few weeks, she and Marianne and Lorenz usually take tea together in the evenings, it’s become something of a habit of theirs… and, well, Marianne and I have both been talking about you, and how well you seemed to be doing, and Hilda wondered if you perhaps thought you were ready to come out, for just a bit?” he said, though the end of the sentence curved upwards like a question. “She wants to have a small dinner party. Lorenz and Marianne will be there. But she’s invited us, too,” he said. He gave Dimitri’s hand a small squeeze. “Tonight, she hopes. We’d all be delighted if you came. But only if you feel like you’re ready,” he said.

Dimitri slowly lowered his right hand to place his fork back down on his plate and turned his left hand so that he could link his fingers with Claude’s as he thought about it. Leave the safety of his room? It seemed daunting, even for a man like him, who’d been in battle and seen horrors. He’d faced much, _much_ worse things than a door. But as he glanced over towards his bedroom door, it seemed so, so imposing. His gut’s response was to say ‘no’ and to stay in the safety of his room. But… these four walls couldn’t be the rest of his life. Perhaps he was frightened of what waited for him outside the door, but he was also frightened by the idea of being trapped for the rest of his life, especially inside a prison he made for himself. It had already happened once, and it was such an easy trap for him to fall into. He didn’t want it to happen again.

But it was a frightening idea! Dimitri knew that he had changed much over the course of the past five years. He was no longer the boy from the Academy that his friends had once known, and if they expected him to be that, now, he knew he would only disappoint them. What’s more, he still had that old fear creeping up the back of his neck. The gnawing guilt that perhaps he _wasn’t_ meant to be happy. Those thoughts were fewer, now, but they were still there. And having tea with fellow graduates of the Academy only made him think of his other friends. The ones who hadn’t lived to see peace.

War was a terrible thing, though. Not everything had been Dimitri’s fault. There were still things he had done wrong and still things he blamed himself for. But he was at the point now that he could breathe and move past them, put those thoughts aside and keep breathing.

Claude was still holding his hand and waiting patiently for his answer. Dimitri breathed and squeezed Claude’s fingers, eternally grateful for him. He couldn’t describe how much good it had done him to have Claude by his side through all of this. Whatever Claude claimed, with his pretty words and deflecting humor, Dimitri knew that he hid a heart of gold inside of his chest. The hateful world had made Claude wary of trust and hesitant to show vulnerability, but when he was with Dimitri, he wasn’t just ‘Claude’. He was Khalid, the _real_ person. The secret person that Claude felt like he had to hide from the rest of the world. But he didn’t hide in front of Dimitri. Khalid accepted everything that Dimitri was with open arms and he trusted Dimitri to do just the same for him. When they were with each other, they could just _be._ It was the sort of friendship that Dimitri never imagined he might find for himself. Really, Claude was too good to be true.

What’s more, Claude was with him every step of the way. It hadn’t been long ago at all when he’d held Dimitri and promised him that he wanted a future together. That he was going to be at Dimitri’s side no matter what happened. That he couldn’t imagine a happy ending for himself without Dimitri. That he would _be there_. Dimitri knew he could have never hoped for a better friend. And he knew that if he took this next step, big and terrifying as it seemed, that Claude would be there right in stride with him.

So Dimitri steeled himself, took a deep breath, and nodded. “I… I will do it,” he said, and the smile which illuminated Claude’s features was positively radiant in Dimitri’s sight.

“Thank you, Dima,” he responded. He let go of Dimitri’s hand and leaned far enough to brush Dimitri’s hair back from his eye. “Would you like it if someone came to help you get ready? Marianne, perhaps?” he asked. ‘Why not you?’ Dimitri almost asked, but he figured that Claude must have had a reason not to offer himself. Dimitri blushed as he realized that Claude might want to be surprised by him.

“Marianne would be fine,” he agreed, and Claude beamed and gave the lock of hair in his grasp a light little tug.

“I think she’ll be a good choice,” he said. “She won’t fuss over you too much, and she knows how to deal with long hair. It’s past your shoulders, now,” he commented. Dimitri grunted and turned his gaze enough to look at where his hair fell down to his collarbone. Claude was right about that. And from what Dimitri remembered, appearances were quite important to Hilda and Lorenz. Even though he was doing better, he was still quite the mess, wasn’t he? Dimitri felt anxiety bubble up in his stomach, but then Claude tapped the end of his nose with his forefinger, making Dimitri blink and smile and duck his head.

“Thank you, Claude,” he said. “I don’t know what I’d do without a friend like you,” he said. After he spoke those words, though, Claude’s expression… did something strange. His eyes widened minutely at the corners and his smile seemed to freeze up a bit. Dimitri was confused. What had he said wrong?

Claude blinked a few times and cleared his throat, making a swift recovery. The easy smile was back, but it did not meet his eyes. “I’m more than happy to be your friend, Dimitri,” he responded, and Dimitri hummed, his brow furrowed as he went back to breakfast. Claude didn’t say much for the rest of the meal. He kept looking out the window, which Dimitri thought was odd. Usually, Claude spent an awful lot of time staring at Dimitri. When they were finished eating, he cast a smile over in Dimitri’s direction as he gathered the tray. He gave Dimitri a wink and a wry grin, both of which seemed playful, but did Dimitri just imagine it, or was something off?

“I’ll send up Marianne later. See you tonight, your princeliness,” he said. Back to that old nickname? Where did ‘Dima’ go? Claude left the room with a quick step, leaving Dimitri staring baffled after him.

His confusion didn’t linger the whole day, though. Ever since he had started feeling better, Marianne and Felix had put a bookshelf in his room and filled it with quite the selection. Dimitri read slowly, nowadays. Staring at small print for too long with only his one eye made his head hurt, so he had to take frequent breaks from any book that interested him. He often left them lying open on the table when he went to stare out the window to give his eye a break. But the book he’d just started on was a bit easier. It was a text on the flora and fauna of the Alliance, specifically the area by the sea where Dimitri was living now. It was full of large pictures and diagrams which were easy to focus on and stare at for a long time. Marianne had told him that some of the birds in the book would likely be ones that he saw outside his window. Indeed, he found the section on pelicans sometime in the mid-afternoon, and recognized quite a few of the birds in the book that he’d seen flying down around the waterfront. He collected the tome and went to sit by the window with it, looking at the birds and consulting his book whenever he spotted something new.

He was still there when a knock came to his door and Marianne entered, a bundle of blue fabric with a hairbrush atop it in her arms. She gave Dimitri a smile as she approached him, and the expression only grew when she saw what he was looking at. “Oh, you’ve found the birds,” she said with a pleased hum. “Have you been able to identify any of them from here, or do they not fly close enough?” she asked. Dimitri was proud of himself when he was able to turn back a couple pages and confidently point at the picture of the Brown Pelican as one he had spotted. Marianne glanced at the picture and nodded in affirmation. “Yes, those are quite common around here!” she said. “And they can be very loud, if a bit rude. They like to talk with their mouths full…” she began, only to catch herself with a small shake of her head and one more little grin. “Oh, but you and I can talk about the birds any time. Right now, we have a schedule to keep!”

With that, she sat down the bundle in her arms, starting to unfold layers of fabric until Dimitri realized she was laying out a beautiful new outfit for him. Like most clothing in the Alliance, the majority of the outfit was cotton. The shirt was a deep, near-midnight blue with silver trim at the sleeves and collar, and the trousers were pressed white. But the cape that Marianne unfurled was what caught Dimitri’s immediate attention. It was royal blue silk with a silver clasp to hold it at his shoulder and a sash which would go across his chest. It looked… expensive, and while Dimitri had once been a prince and never really had to think about things like that, he didn’t have a copper to his name here. His jaw was loose as he stared at the magnificent outfit, wide-eyed. Marianne looked over towards him and smiled.

“Claude commissioned it for you a few days ago,” she said. “He’s been hoping that you would have the chance to wear it, soon. I think he’s going to be quite elated to see you in your old colors, prince,” she said. “He hopes it’ll help you feel more like your old self.”

Dimitri remained stuck in his seat for a few more seconds, but then he closed the book on his lap and stood to reach out and touch the cape. It _was_ silk. His fingers moved to glide over the shirt and trousers, next, finding the cotton soft. Even the boots that sat on the floor in waiting for him looked like they had been custom made. This was… a lot of effort for Claude to go through. Especially a few days ago, before Dimitri had even agreed to leave his room. It seemed… Claude had been harboring very high hopes for him, indeed.

“They’re magnificent,” Dimitri said when he finally managed to find his voice again. “I hardly think I deserve them,” he confessed, and Marianne reached out to squeeze his arm in reassurance.

“I know,” she said softly. “I’ve felt the same. Lorenz buys me such pretty dresses and I worry that I’ll only make them look positively plain,” she said. “But, you’ll see. Lorenz’s smile makes me feel beautiful. When Claude sees you in this, it’ll be the same,” she assured him, and that set Dimitri to feeling much more at ease. Marianne nodded and motioned towards the door. “Would you like me to step out?” she asked. “Or would you like my assistance, prince?” she asked. Dimitri went a bit red and cleared his throat as he looked at the outfit again.

“I’ll… need help with the buttons,” he said, seeing the number of them that ran up the front of the shirt. He didn’t trust his fingers not to accidentally rip them off. “And likely the cape, as well. If you’ll just turn your back a moment, I can manage the trousers on my own,” he said. Really, he hadn’t much reason to be this modest in front of Marianne. She had been his healer, after all, and during that first week in Derdriu when he had been catatonic, he was certain she’d dealt very closely with his body. Still, she respected his need for privacy, and nodded.

“I’ll just look out the window,” she promised him. “Let me know when you feel comfortable with me turning back around,” she said. She stepped closer to said window, letting Dimitri slip past her to collect his new pants from the table. He had his own change of smallclothes and stockings in a drawer nearby, and changed into those before pulling on the pants and boots. The pants felt… a little tight, but then again, he’d been wearing baggy clothing for a long time, now. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he didn’t think they looked too out of place on his body. So he gave Marianne the all clear. As she turned, he realized he was quite comfortable with her, moreso than he had expected. Her eyes didn’t linger on his body anywhere, not even on his scars, of which there were _plenty_ , he was well aware of that. She just brought over the unbuttoned shirt and helped him slide it over his shoulders, buttoning up the front for him with a little smile.

“I’m a bit surprised,” she confessed. “When I first saw the shirt, I thought it was going to be too big for you, but your shoulders are quite broad, aren’t they?” she asked. “And you didn’t know about this outfit? Claude never took your measurements?” she asked, and Dimitri shook his head.

“I guess… he has spent a long time with his arms around me,” he responded, which made Marianne’s expression light up.

“It’s a good thing,” she assured him swiftly, fastening the last button at his collar. “You two are good together,” she said, and Dimitri nodded with a small smile. He’d never find another friend as good as Claude. After taking a moment to adjust his collar a bit more, the young woman nodded. “I think, before the cape, we ought to do something with your hair,” she said. “Wouldn’t want the brush to snag on the silk, and this might take a little bit of work. But don’t worry!” she added quickly. “Hilda has shown me a lot about fixing hair since our school days, and, um, I’m much better with it than I used to be. She’d probably be the best for it, but, Claude said you’d be more comfortable with me, so, I’ll do my best!” she promised. Dimitri sat down in front of his small vanity and Marianne got the brush, taking up position behind him. “Now, you just tell me if I pull too hard anywhere, all right?” Dimitri hummed a noise in the positive, and Marianne got to work.

It definitely wasn’t an easy task. Dimitri didn’t think his hair had been brushed since… since maybe even before his imprisonment in Fhirdiad. He’d never bothered with it while on the run. And he’d never bothered with it here, either. His hair was positively a rat’s nest, even if he did wash it so it wasn’t dirty. Marianne had her work cut out for her.

She was gentle but persistent about it, though. Whenever she came to a knot, she worked it out gently between her fingers and the teeth of the brush. The first hour and a half was spent just doing that alone, but it never hurt. Between Marianne’s gentleness and Dimitri’s own numbed nerve endings, he barely even felt a tug.

“Okay,” Marianne said at long last, and Dimitri blinked open his eye. “I think we’re finally getting somewhere,” she said, and when Dimitri looked into the mirror, he almost didn’t recognize himself. His hair was laying flat against his head, straight and soft where it brushed his cheeks and the back of his neck. He tilted his head this way and that, and Marianne smiled. “Are you pleased with it?” she asked. “We can leave it this way, if you prefer. But I did bring a ribbon, if you want me to tie it back,” she said. “It’s long enough that I could do a small braid. Would you like that?” she asked, and Dimitri found himself nodding. This time, he kept his eye open to watch as she pulled back his hair from his face and began to weave it against his skull, making a low, loose braid that fell over his left shoulder. A few strands escaped it, here and there around his face, but… well. It was the most he had seen of his face for ages. He tilted his head this way and that when she was done, hardly able to believe how _different_ he looked with his hair tamed. Marianne stood back, a smile on her face and her hands clasped in front of her.

“You look great, Dimitri,” she assured him. “Now, let’s get your cape. I think it’s almost time to go,” she said. Dimitri stood and allowed her to fasten the cape around his shoulders, and with the sash in place as well, he turned back to his mirror to study the completed image. It felt a bit like he was looking at a stranger. But it also felt a bit like looking at an old friend he had simply forgotten about for the longest time.

“You look great,” Marianne promised him once again, and he smiled, and the reflection in the mirror smiled back at him. That… felt better. That _looked_ better. He decided that he liked it – his reflection. He did like it.

“Come on, Dimitri,” Marianne said, moving towards the door. She stood by it, looking at him warmly. “Um, would you like to open it?” she asked, and, feeling brave, Dimitri nodded. He reached for the handle, pulled the door open, and stepped outside the room. Together, they walked down the hallway.


	14. Fool

Claude couldn’t _believe_ just how horribly he’d misread everything up until now. But as he lay there, face down on his bed and all but screaming into his pillows, he was realizing just how badly he had messed up.

He had thought that Dimitri _loved_ him.

Claude punched the headboard and shouted into his mattress again. He had thought Dimitri _loved him_ , and he had done something so, so stupid in response.

He loved Dimitri _back_.

It was stupid. The most idiotic thing he had ever done in his life. He had taken off his mask and lowered his defenses and _fallen in love,_ knowing the whole while that it was dangerous, that he was exposing vulnerabilities he really shouldn’t be. Claude had thought it was safe. Dimitri was so honest, he couldn’t trick anyone if he tried and Claude knew that. Dimitri hadn’t lied to him; Claude had simply been _wrong._ And the fact that this was Claude’s fault entirely only made him feel worse. He had misread the situation. He had fallen in love with Dimitri.

And then Dimitri had called him his _friend_.

Claude felt like he had been shot.

He punched the headboard again, caring little if he would be sporting bruises at dinnertime. In truth, he was thinking about feigning an illness to get out of Hilda’s little party. He was seriously considering going over to his cabinet of poisons and chugging something to give himself a valid excuse. But he couldn’t do that, and Claude knew it. If he didn’t show, Dimitri would feel like he had shown up alone. And he couldn’t do that to Dimitri. Dimitri _depended_ on him.

But that’s all this was, wasn’t it? Dimitri was dependent on him. When the prince had first arrived here he had been so broken and frightened that he had pleaded with Claude to never go. To stay at his side and hold him to keep the nightmares at bay. Dimitri had clung to him and cried to him and Claude had held him close and shushed him and sang, all the while slowly rekindling the spark in his chest that had once flared for the prince. (Stupid, stupid, foolish!) But now Dimitri was doing better. He was getting help better than what Claude could provide to him alone and, while he still leaned on Claude, Dimitri was starting to find his own feet again. It was a good thing, Claude forcefully reminded himself. He could not have shouldered the burden of Dimitri’s care and happiness forever. Not only would it have been untenable for himself, but it would have been incredibly unhealthy for him and Dimitri both. This was a good thing, he thought, scowling into his pillows. Dimitri didn’t need him as much anymore. And as the days passed, perhaps Dimitri would need him even less and less, until…

“Fuck,” Claude whispered as his jaw popped. He took a deep breath and forced his features to go slack. His jaw hadn’t done that before his injury, but now whenever stress got to him and he found himself clenching his jaw too tightly, it would pop, and pain would run all through his teeth. He rolled onto his side and reached up to massage the space in front of his left ear where his mandible met his skull, making himself breathe.

He had to let this go.

Claude knew that. He knew that, to safeguard Dimitri’s heart and protect his own from further harm, he was going to have to crush down his feelings and back off. It was a necessary sacrifice on the steps towards paving a better future for both of them, Claude told himself. And yet, hadn’t he just told Dimitri a few weeks ago that he couldn’t imagine a future without the prince at his side? He had _kissed_ the man, by the Gods! Okay, so maybe Dimitri had been asleep the first time Claude had pressed his lips to the other’s hair, but he knew Dimitri had been awake the second time. How on earth had Dimitri interpreted that? Just as Claude’s excitement for finally seeing him up and out of bed? Or was Dimitri’s calm, quiet assertion that they were _friends_ a subtle way of telling Claude to back off?

No, that couldn’t be right. Dimitri wasn’t subtle about anything. There were times when Dimitri wouldn’t say what was on his mind but Claude was good at reading people. (He thought.) He had usually been able to guess what Dimitri needed and Dimitri’s responses had always confirmed to him that he was right. So what about all of this, then? Had Claude simply projected his own selfish desires onto Dimitri’s quiet glances and mute smiles? That _had_ to be the case. It had to be. And Claude hated himself for it.

Because, what was he supposed to do now? It had taken every ounce of his courage to hand his heart over to Dimitri. And now it felt like Dimitri had just chucked it back at him with a lighthearted “catch!” and Claude was left fumbling and floundering and unsure of what to do. Claude, who tried to be prepared for everything, who was always one step ahead of everyone, had _no idea_ what he was supposed to do.

Just take things one step at a time, he thought. It was all he could do. And right now, he had to get ready for a dinner party that he was in no way prepared for.

But, he could do it. He’d done harder things. Claude pushed himself up and looked across the room to the outfit he’d set out for himself before even asking Dimitri if he’d come along. Sleek black trousers that were maybe a _touch_ too tight and a deep blue shirt with a V in the neck. He had looked forward to wearing it, knowing that, one, Lorenz would _hate_ it and how scandalous it was, but, two, Dimitri _might_ love it. He’d wear blue to match the outfit he’d commissioned for Dimitri. The shirt showed off his chest and maybe it would make Dimitri look, or blush and look away. And the material was soft velvet. Claude had learned a few days ago that Dimitri really seemed to like soft things. Their usual laundry maid had taken ill but it was the day to change the bed sheets, and so a bunch of the people in the manor’d had to make do with furs as blankets instead of the usual linens and Dimitri had _loved_ it. He had bundled himself all up in them and brought them around the room with him _everywhere_ to stay cocooned in the soft warmth. The temperature here in Derdriu was too warm to wear furs all day but Dimitri hadn’t seemed to care and Claude had noticed. So when he’d gotten himself a blue shirt, he had requested the material be velvet. It was soft, like fur, and he had let his imagination run away, wondering if Dimitri would want to hold onto his arm. Maybe touch his shoulder. Maybe even pull him close. Maybe Dimitri would even hold _Claude_ for once.

But that was a bucket dream, wasn’t it? Feeling stupid and furious with himself, Claude picked up the outfit and slung it across the room. He couldn’t wear it. Not tonight, not ever. He had bought it to wear for _Dimitri_ and now he knew he would _never_ be able to wear the clothing without feeling disappointed. He gave some serious consideration to burning the articles but as he turned he saw that the clothing had slid under his bed and he decided that was good enough for now. He had to get ready.

Opening his wardrobe once again, Claude combed through until he found yellow. Yellow trousers, yellow cape, green shirt with yellow stitching. Yellow matched. Yellow looked good on him, green would go with his eyes. He didn’t give his outfit much thought past that and just pulled the clothing on before marching back over to his vanity. He dipped his hands in the basin of water there and scrubbed his face.

He needed to calm down. Tonight was a big night. Dimitri was _finally_ coming out of his room, and Claude couldn’t let something like his foolish heart ruin that. He knew how to fake his smiles and put on a show. Tonight would be a test of that, for sure, but for Dimitri’s sake… he had to do this.

Claude breathed. He dried his hands by running his damp fingers through his hair, watching his loose curls fall into place. He meant to take time on the way he looked tonight. He’d wanted to look _perfect_ , he’d wanted… so many things. But he’d been _wrong_ to want those things. Claude was not a selfless man. Almost everything he did had a selfish motivation behind it.

But he loved Dimitri.

And if all Dimitri needed was a friend, then Claude would swallow his selfishness and _be that_. Even if he felt like he was killing a part of himself for it. Dimitri needed Claude, _his friend._ So, he made himself calm as he stared himself down in the mirror. Maybe tonight’s outing wouldn’t be the perfect thing he’d imagined it to be for himself. But he would be _damned_ if it wasn’t perfect for Dimitri.

He could hear Marianne’s voice in the hallway. Knowing that she would be arriving with Dimitri, Claude pulled himself together. He adjusted the clasp of his cape and took a deep breath. And when the knock came to his door, he painted on a smile.

“On my way!”


	15. Beloved

“We’re nearly to Claude, Dimitri,” Marianne told him as she turned down another large hallway, at the end of which stood a grand wooden double-door which Dimitri could only assume led to Claude’s quarters. “Are you ready?” she asked, and Dimitri nodded, heart thrumming in his chest. He peeked around curiously at everything as they walked. Considering the only other time he’d left his room was in a panic looking for Marianne, this was really the first chance he’d had to look around the manor. Marianne knocked softly on Claude’s door which was responded to with an “On my way!” in that voice that made Dimitri’s lips curl upwards and his head spin.

Just a moment later, Claude was pulling open the door. He glanced at Marianne first, but when his gaze turned to Dimitri, his eyes went wide. It seemed like he had been rendered speechless for a long few moments where he just stared up at Dimitri, eyes taking in every angle. When he finally spoke it was just a soft, true, honest-to-Goddess, “Wow,” which escaped him, and Dimitri ducked his head. It wasn’t so easy to hide behind his hair with it pulled back, but that was all right. Marianne had been very correct about one thing. The way Claude looked at him, smiled at him, it _definitely_ made Dimitri feel special. He hardly noticed Marianne give them both a small curtsy before scampering away. His attention was taken entirely by Claude and the hand reaching out towards his face.

Claude’s fingers stalled, though, and instead of landing on Dimitri’s cheek, they went to his shoulder instead. “You look _so good_ ,” he said, squeezing Dimitri’s shoulder. “So healthy and happy. It’s wonderful, Dimitri,” he said. Dimitri reached up to cover Claude’s hand with his own, and then brought it up to his cheek, where it belonged. Claude’s smile twitched a little, but got softer as he smoothed his thumb just under Dimitri’s eye. There he let it linger for a few seconds more, before he sighed and pulled away. Dimitri’s fingers chased after Claude’s and caught them so he wouldn’t feel so out of place as he wandered down the large hallways. Claude paused and looked down at their joined hands in confusion. Something between a smile and a frown warred on his face but then he swallowed and Dimitri saw him give a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Come on. The others are expecting us,” he said. Dimitri followed happily enough, Claude’s hand fitting perfectly inside his own. Whatever bothered Claude… he didn’t know. But he gave his savior’s fingers a small squeeze as they walked along in the hopes of comforting him. He heard Claude sigh. Then he felt Claude squeeze back _tight_.

It took only about a minute of walking to near the dining hall, but as they got further along, Claude slowed down a bit more. He appeared to notice how Dimitri was looking around at everything, and stopped to point things out here and there. Turning down one long hallway, he gestured to the painted portraits that covered one side entirely.

“The previous Lords of Riegan,” he said. Dimitri hummed. They had a wing in Fhirdiad like this, too. Family portraits of people who looked vaguely like Dimitri himself. One day, he’d been meant to have his own portrait hanging there, too, another in a long line of golden-haired men with blue eyes and a serious demeanor. As Dimitri looked at the pictures in Claude’s hallway, though, he was surprised.

“None of them much resemble you,” he said, and Claude shook his head.

“Nah,” he agreed. “This is my mother’s side of the family. I take after my father in everything except my eyes,” he said. “I look a lot more like the people across the mountains than the people from here. I really doubt my grandpa would have even been able to convince anyone I was actually his if I didn’t have the Crest to prove it,” he said. Dimitri felt his brow crease. It… very well might have been so. As much as Claude blended in with his carefully polished mannerisms and his command over Fodlan’s language, there was only so much he could do about the way he looked. It was a shame, Dimitri thought, that something like _skin color_ might keep a family apart. And even more terrible was the thought that, if Claude’s grandfather had rejected him, then… Claude might have never come to the Officer’s Academy. Dimitri might have never met him.

Claude hissed out a soft breath through his teeth and Dimitri looked in his direction. Claude was still smiling at him but there was a wince in his eyes, and he pulled Dimitri to a halt. “What’s the matter?” he asked, and Dimitri very suddenly realized that he was grasping Claude’s hand much too tightly. He gasped and let go but Claude’s fingers chased after him, holding on. “What were you thinking about?” he questioned softly, concern on his features. “Is there something wrong?”

Claude was probably worried that Dimitri had gotten nervous, and had started to second-guess this dinner party plan. Dimitri wondered if it would be better to let him think that than for him to admit that he’d started holding on so tightly because the thought of living his life without Claude had frightened him so much he needed to hold on tighter. He ducked his head but Claude just stepped closer to him so that they stood chest-to-chest, peeking up into Dimitri’s face despite the way he tried to hide. “ _Dima_ ,” he murmured imploringly. “Do you want to go back to your room?” he asked. Dimitri shook his head.

“No,” he said. “No, I’m fine.” He let out a deep, shaky breath and lifted Claude’s hand up so he could inspect it. There were bruises forming on Claude’s knuckles and Dimitri frowned. So quickly? Just how tightly had he gripped Claude’s hand?

“It’s fine, it’s fine, really, don’t worry about it, your princeliness, you didn’t-” Claude insisted, but Dimitri couldn’t let this stand. They were about to go eat dinner. Claude needed his hands. So Dimitri carefully brought his other arm around Claude to sandwich Claude’s fingers between his own. His only focus was on Claude’s hand, so he didn’t really notice how Claude’s breath hiccupped in his throat as Dimitri’s arm wrapped around his back. Dimitri held him in place so he wouldn’t try and squirm away as his brows knit and slowly, soothingly, there was a pulse of warm white magic from Dimitri’s palms. It wasn’t easy for Dimitri to do, and required quite a bit of his focus. His simple Heal spell had been entirely useless in the face of Claude’s worst injuries, but this… Dimitri was determined to fix. The bruises disappeared in an instant, and once his hand was all better, Dimitri let Claude go. It took Claude a second to step away from where he had pressed his head into Dimitri’s chest, and he cleared his throat as he looked his hand over curiously.

“I didn’t know you were skilled in white magic,” he commented, still not looking up. Dimitri shook his head.

“Professor Hanneman taught all of us the basics,” he said. “I wouldn’t call it skill.”

“It’s definitely a useful trick to have in your bag, I’m sure,” Claude said, flexing his fingers a couple times and finally lifting his gaze. Dimitri couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw the traces of blush fading off of Claude’s face. Oh. Oh, he had been holding him quite tightly, hadn’t he? And Claude’s breath had stuttered. Dimitri hoped he hadn’t squeezed him so hard it cut off his breathing.

Claude, though, seemed fine. He even smiled once again, and nodded down the hallway. “We’ve probably tarried enough for now, don’t you think? I expect the others are waiting for us.”

“Ah, right,” Dimitri said, motioning for Claude to take the lead. Claude crossed his arms as he walked ahead, this time, and Dimitri fell into step beside him. In no time at all, they reached the double doors that were already pulled open in anticipation of their arrival. The dining hall, or at least this one in particular, was small but pretty. The round table that sat in the room was big enough to accommodate probably eight people, but the five of them filled it up well enough considering that they each had several plates arranged for their meal. The main dish seemed to be Onion Gratin soup, which made Dimitri smile slightly. He’d eaten that when he was a child, and the smell of it definitely took him back. It was served alongside a vegetable pasta salad as well as fried balls of fish Dango, and sitting on a small plate to the side was a little square of Saghert and Cream. The aroma was tantalizing, and Dimitri hoped that his taste buds would work with him today. Even if he could only taste a little, he was certain that it would be delicious.

“It seems our last two guests have finally arrived!” spoke Lorenz, who stood from the table to offer the other two men a small, polite bow. The ladies stayed seated. “Fashionably late as always, Claude,” he said, in response to which Claude only chuckled and folded his arms behind his head.

“Dimitri hasn’t had a tour of the place yet,” he said. “We got a little caught up looking at some old paintings. Everything looks like it’s still warm, so I don’t see any reason for you to get your feathers ruffled, Lord Gloucester,” he returned with a wry little grin that made Lorenz stare up at the ceiling for a moment and heave a great, dramatic sigh.

“Please, do sit. We’ve all been eagerly awaiting your arrival,” Marianne intervened, and Lorenz nodded once more as he took his place beside his wife again.

“Indeed! I do hope you both enjoy the meal, it was by Marianne’s selection this evening.”

“Oh, come on, Lorenz, cut it out,” Hilda spoke up with a little smile on her lips as she stretched her arms over her head. “We might be dressed up for tonight, but it’s just a bit of fun! No need to be so formal, we’re all friends,” she said. She cast her sunny smile over towards Dimitri. “You look great, Dimitri! Twice as handsome as I remember! Did you get taller?” she asked him, batting her long eyelashes. “I think you must have. Doesn’t he look great, Claude?” she asked, turning her sunrise-colored eyes over towards her dear friend. Claude smiled as he took his own seat and motioned for Dimitri to join him at the table at his right hand.

“He does,” Claude said. Hilda smiled her approval, and then her eyes were back on Dimitri. “Oh, and doesn’t Claude clean up nice, too, Dimitri? I think so,” she said, which prompted Dimitri to look over at Claude once again. He hadn’t really noticed before, but Claude _was_ wearing something a bit different than his usual. Dimitri was used to seeing him in yellow by now, and the cloak he wore around his shoulders was the familiar color. But his long tunic was green with gold detailing along the chest and sleeves, a pretty design of what looked like vines and ivy creeping across his body. Dimitri didn’t really consider himself well-versed in the realm of fashion, but Claude looked good in green. It matched his eyes.

“Very,” Dimitri affirmed. Hilda gave a light giggle. Marianne was smiling, as well, and shared a glance with her husband, who seemed like he was looking at something he didn’t quite believe. Lorenz cleared his throat somewhat suddenly and motioned to the meal in front of them.

“Yes, I think we all look quite appropriate for the occasion. Despite what you say, Hilda, this is a celebration. It is good to welcome you back, Prince Dimitri,” he said with a little bow of his head. “Now, why don’t we eat? I can hardly resist this smell any longer,” he said. He picked up his spoon and made a motion to indicate that the others do the same. “Shall we?” he asked, and Dimitri gave a nod. He paid more attention to his table manners than he had in years as he picked up his spoon and began with the soup. It was warm on his tongue and in his throat, and he hummed in contentment. Even if he couldn’t taste much, the feeling was still comforting. He closed his eye and relished it for a moment.

Then, Lorenz broke the silence. “So, Prince Dimitri,” he began, and Dimitri opened his eye once again to look at him. “What are your plans for the future? You've been here in Derdriu for quite some time. Do you intend to return to your castle in Faerghus? After all, the Empress may rule the Kingdom, now, but you still have lands and peo-pah-!” The young man gave a small jump and turned to look at Marianne in wide-eyed shock. “I- dear wife, that is the _heel of your boot_ in my shin,” he said, and Marianne hummed, not looking exactly apologetic.

“I’m sorry, my love. It’s the spice. Bit too much for me,” she said, and Lorenz looked aghast.

“Super-spicy Fish Dango is one of your favorites-” he said, but Dimitri didn’t listen much to Lorenz past that. Inwardly, he was grateful for Marianne’s interruption. In truth, he’d no idea how he was supposed to answer a question like the one Lorenz had posed. He could still barely take care of himself. How was he supposed to be responsible for lands and people that he had turned his back upon so long ago? He stirred his soup quietly until he felt a small tap at his ankle from under the table. He looked up. Claude.

“You should try the Dango, Dimitri,” Claude suggested. “I think it’ll leave an impression on you,” he said, and Dimitri accepted the distraction. Leaving his spoon in the soup, he picked up his fork and speared one of the small fried balls to pop into his mouth. The taste was like an explosion of color on his tongue. It certainly had to be one of the spiciest foods in all of Fodlan if it was something _Dimitri_ could taste, but he was just so glad for the sensation that he didn’t care if it burned him a bit. Taste was wonderful.

Claude rested his chin in his palm and watched Dimitri eat. “Like it?” he asked, and Dimitri nodded. Claude’s smile broadened, and across the table, Hilda _sighed_. Dimitri looked over towards her, and she quirked her brow.

“What?” she asked. “I just think it’s sweet, that’s all. Claude, what’s that saying from where you grew up that you once told me? ‘As sure as thunder follows lightning and the moon chases the stars, flowers follow the rain’?” she asked. She looked at Dimitri and smiled again. “That saying just makes me think of the two of you, that’s all,” she said. “The way you two look at each other, it’s like you’re both in full bloom!” she said, and Dimitri felt himself blush a bit.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I know I could find no better friend for myself than Claude.”

“ _Friend_?” Hilda asked, her eyes going wide. She shot a look across the table to Claude and Dimitri thought that Claude made some kind of response, but his single eye wasn’t enough to track the silent conversation between the two of them.

“I… of course?” Dimitri asked, uncertain. “Of course Claude is my friend,” he said, and across the table he saw Lorenz press his hand over his lips for a moment. Now, he was the one looking at his wife, and she was the one with the expression of disbelief. The two of them looked swiftly over towards Hilda as Dimitri finally let his gaze wander back over towards Claude. Dimitri reached for his hand. “Did… I say something wrong?” he asked, and Claude’s hand met his halfway.

“Nah, Dimitri. You’re good. Hey, I’m really proud of you,” he said. “I think you’re doing great. Guys, don’t you think so?” he said, stressing the question more than was likely necessary from how the other three at the table all swiftly nodded.

“You really are, Dimitri. It’s so good to see you out of that room,” Marianne said, and Dimitri slowly relaxed again. He released Claude’s hand so they could both go back to eating and by the time he had taken a few more bites of the soup, the mood at the table seemed to have gone back to normal.

Hilda’s voice piped up after not too much longer, her gaze fixed on Dimitri. “It’s a wonderful time all around, I think,” she said. “People are even getting married, you know! The Professor and Felix, I never would have guessed that!” she said. “And Lorenz and Marianne! You two are such a great couple, it’s like you’re made for each other!” she gushed, and Marianne giggled.

“You’re kind, Hilda,” she said. “It’s… a wonderful feeling. When you find that special person you want to spend the rest of your life with,” she said, and Claude coughed.

“Ladies,” he said, something in his tone that implied he didn’t like where the conversation was heading. Dimitri looked over towards him, but Lorenz caught his gaze on the way as he made an emphatic motion towards the two young women.

“No, they are right, Claude. And it’s a perfectly suitable conversation topic in these days of peace. Why, Hilda, I’m certain you have your eye on someone as well, don’t you?” Lorenz asked. Hilda giggled.

“Me, get married?” she asked. “Oh, well, I always imagined myself marrying someone like... like Claude, for example! But the thing about Claude is that he’s got his sights set on the stars... at least, one certain star in particular.”

“Hilda, _please_ ,” Claude stressed, but Hilda just gave him an airy shrug.

“Whaaat? It’s true,” she said. She looked over towards Dimitri, giving him a little wink and a nudge of her elbow against his own. “It’s _really_ true, Prince Dimitri,” she said.

Dimitri looked between the two of them and the pair across the table. It was starting to feel like they were having a conversation above his head, he could hear their words but there was something being said in their expressions and tones that he couldn’t follow. It was all moving much too quickly. “If… you say so,” he responded to Hilda, since it seemed like she wanted a response. Hilda’s smile stayed in place but she cut her eyes over to Marianne and Lorenz and Dimitri followed her gaze. It was starting to feel like he was going to get whiplash from how much his head had to move for his eye to keep up with everything. Marianne and Lorenz caught Hilda’s look, then they glanced at one another.

“Uh-” Lorenz stuttered for a brief moment, before his eyes went wide and he plopped his hand down on the table, palm up. “My dear wife, might I hold your hand?” he asked, and she beamed at him.

“Certainly, Lorenz… holding your hand brings me so much comfort,” she said, slipping her fingers into his own. “It is one of the things I love most about you… how you comfort me, and make me feel like a treasure…” Lorenz laughed brightly.

“Well, my dear, that’s simply because you _are_ a treasure! Can’t you see it in the way my eyes light up with love every time they behold your beautiful face?” he asked, and now it was Marianne’s turn to giggle.

“Lorenz, I love you, you can always make me smile…”

“That’s enough!” Claude burst suddenly, standing up from his chair so quickly it toppled over behind him. His jaw was clenched _tight_ and Dimitri felt his stomach twist when he heard a sickening pop. It seemed to snatch Claude’s anger right away, though, because his features went slack and he let out a deep breath as he reached up to run his fingers over the place where he’d once been struck by Dimitri. Dimitri jumped to his feet at the noise, and Claude looked up at him, giving a small shake of his head. “Dimitri, it’s fine,” he insisted. He spent a couple more moments massaging his jaw with one hand while the other reached out and gently batted away the hand Dimitri had reached for him. Dimitri didn’t know what he was going to do – he knew what he wanted to do but he was unsure if it would help… still, his fingers had started to go warm with healing magic immediately at seeing Claude’s pain. But Claude rebuffed him before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Really, guys, I appreciate it, but… listen, never mind. Hey, Dimitri, it’s okay,” he assured. “They’ve just got some unresolved stuff going on-”

“ _We_ have unresolved stuff?” Hilda burst, and Claude threw his hands up in the air.

“What do you want me to do, Hils?” he asked, and Hilda pointed to her lips, then to Claude, then to Dimitri. Claude flailed slightly. “I _have_!” he said. That left Hilda looking completely baffled while Marianne and Lorenz sat at the table looking at the three of them, and Dimitri… Dimitri was really, really confused.

“What… is happening?” he asked. And now it was Marianne who stood.

“Dimitri, it’s not anything to worry about, I promise,” she said, her soothing voice calming the atmosphere in the room at once. She fidgeted softly with her hands, messing with the wedding band on her finger. “Let’s just sit down and finish dinner together, all right? I’m sorry. This is a _lot_ to throw at you your first time out,” she said, and Claude glared at Hilda _firmly_.

“That’s exactly what it is,” he said, righting his chair and sitting back down. He leaned back with his arms crossed, scowling towards the wall. “Dimitri, help yourself to my dessert. I’m not particularly fond of confections,” he said, but Dimitri… was processing. A whole lot had just been said around the table and he was one hundred percent certain that he’d only _heard_ half of what was really going on. He knew he wasn’t good at subtle cues, especially not after having lived as a wild man for five years. But he was at least sharp enough to know when something was going on around him as obvious as this was. Just… what was it? He reviewed the past minutes in his head. His words about Claude being his friend seemed to have been the tipping point in the room, but why was that? It wasn’t like he was wrong about that, Claude _was_ his friend. But things in the room had gotten so weird after that. Hilda had started talking about peace and weddings, herself and Claude and the stars, and Lorenz and Marianne had hopped in, twining their fingers together and speaking about their love for one another… how treasured they were in each other’s eyes, how comforted and safe they both felt, and Claude… Claude had gotten _angry_ at them. Claude had said that it was _too much for Dimitri_. What… the hell was he not seeing?

It hit him all at once as Claude reached out his hand and twined his fingers with Dimitri’s, coaxing him back to his seat. “Come on, Dima,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“I’m an idiot,” Dimitri announced to the entire world. He looked to Claude and felt his heart _race_. He was such an idiot. For how long had this been sitting right in front of him? The realization blew his mind and he couldn’t think of anything to do or say so he just _acted_. He used his grip on Claude’s hand to drag him closer and then their lips were colliding as Dimitri caught Claude against his chest and Claude made a sound like “Hrmp!” and Dimitri pulled the other man into his lap and held him by his sides and-

-and tasted blood?

He pulled back so fast that it made his head spin. And there sat Claude, red-faced and wide-eyed and right in his lap with a busted lip. Dimitri’s hands flew up to cover his mouth and his expression went slack with horror. “I am _so sorry_ -”

“Praise the Goddess!” Hilda declared suddenly. “Oh, Goddess, Dimitri, I was really, really, _really_ worried about you!” she said. “I thought losing one eye had made you go completely _blind_ , like, how were you so _completely_ -”

Lorenz cleared his throat. “Hilda, don’t you think it might be best if we give these two a moment? In _peace and quiet_?” he suggested, and she gasped.

“Oh, Lorenz, you are _absolutely_ right,” she said. “We’ll, um, we’ll just go? How about that? Yeah, I think let’s go,” she said, and the three others swiftly scurried from the room, leaving a blushing Claude and a mortified Dimitri behind.

It took a while for either of them to move, let alone say anything. Claude finally shifted his weight and cleared his throat and let his tongue dart out to taste his bleeding lip. Dimitri watched him, all the while feeling like he was about to burst into flames from embarrassment. “Gotta say, Dima,” Claude spoke at last. “ _Not_ what I was picturing for a first kiss.” Dimitri buried his face in his hands and _screamed_.

“By the Goddess… Claude, I…”

“Shh,” Claude said, plying Dimitri’s hands away from his face. Dimitri looked up and, impossibly, like roses blooming in winter, Claude _smiled_ at him. He let his head tip forward and press against Dimitri’s, like he could only do when they sat so near to one another. So many times. They had done this so many times. Dimitri’s hands fell lightly onto Claude’s hips, and he heard the other let out a gentle sigh. He _felt_ the exhale against his skin, right there by his lips.

“Figured something out, did you?” Claude finally spoke again, and Dimitri squeezed his eye shut.

“Do not tease,” he insisted, and Claude laughed.

“Oh, but when you blush like that, you make it so hard to resist,” he said. Dimitri sighed and looked into Claude’s eyes once again. He lifted one hand to rest it upon Claude’s cheek, and a soft healing light soon mended the split in his lip and, Dimitri hoped, chased away any lingering pain in his jaw. He only had a few seconds more to wallow in guilt, however. Claude smiled, and it was like the sun that banished away the gloom of Dimitri’s thoughts. Slowly, softly, he reached up to twist his fingers in Dimitri’s hair. He pulled the ribbon loose and his braid fell away and Claude lifted the golden strands of Dimitri’s hair to his lips. He kept his eyes on Dimitri as he kissed them, and Dimitri felt himself swallow. Then, Claude’s lips were moving to where Dimitri _really_ wanted them, pressed up against his own. It was a gentle kiss. Chaste, if anything. But for Dimitri, it felt no less intimate for that. Claude tilted his head slightly and the angle got better and Dimitri kissed deeper, arms wrapped around his love and pulling him into his chest. Claude made a _noise_ then, a sound that made Dimitri’s face fill with color and set his heart off even faster than it had already been going. They only broke apart when air became an absolute necessity, and Khalid was looking up at him with watery eyes.

Dimitri blinked. The kiss- Khalid’s jaw- “Did… I hurt you?” he asked with concern when he saw the tears, but Khalid just shook his head.

“These… are happy tears, Dima,” he said. “I’m happy. Very, very happy.” Dimitri reached up to gently thumb a few of the droplets away, and Khalid’s nose wrinkled with his smile. Dimitri found himself smiling back.

“I have never seen you cry,” he said, and Khalid shrugged.

“I don’t know if anyone has,” he confessed as he reached up to swipe his own tears away hurriedly. They _flustered_ him, Dimitri realized. “But… you’ve also never kissed me before,” he said. “And… never _held me_ like this, and… by the sun and moon and stars, Dimitri. I am so in love with you,” he said, looking up to meet Dimitri’s gaze even though his own wasn’t quite dry yet. “I thought you didn’t feel the same,” he confessed, and Dimitri felt his heart skip a beat. The masked looks Claude had been giving him before – at breakfast, on the walk here, even at this dinner table – suddenly made so much more sense. There was a _longing_ in Khalid’s eyes that Dimitri could see now, could see in retrospect, too. “I spent the entire time I was supposed to be getting ready for the dinner party coaching myself into believing I could deny my feelings for you forever. But I can’t. I can’t, and I am so relieved I don’t have to,” he whispered. “I love you. With everything I am, I love you,” he said. His hand reached up to rest on Dimitri’s cheek, and Dimitri followed it with his own, turning his face enough to press a kiss to Khalid’s palm as he held him close.

“Your hands…” Dimitri began, feeling words spill out of him that he never knew he needed to say. “Now that I hold them within my own, I never want to let go of them,” he said softly. These were thoughts he had kept to himself, assuming that Khalid knew. He hadn’t – clearly, he hadn’t, or he’d thought he was mistaken at the very least. But even if he knew now, Dimitri felt the need to say them, regardless. “These hands that have _saved me_ … Thank you, my beloved. I love you. Your kind, warm hands… May they cling to my own forevermore.”

Khalid smiled and closed his eyes and curled up in Dimitri’s chest. He was trembling with what Dimitri could only guess was happiness, just like his tears. When those beautiful green eyes peeked up at him again, they held in them a world of love.

“There’s no way I’m gonna let you go,” he whispered back. “I really hope you know that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we get a round of applause? :D


	16. Duset Daram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, this is a long one and there is *hotness?* ahead, you have been warned.

Falling into bed together was something that just happened, now. Ever since Dimitri had arrived in Derdriu, Claude had been singing him to sleep with the prince’s head pillowed against his shoulder. He had always waited until Dimitri was sleeping soundly before he slipped out of the room to let the other man rest undisturbed. After all, Claude had been a busy man when the war had just ended, getting the Lords in line and Alliance affairs in order. He had kept odd hours that wouldn’t have accommodated the sleeping schedule that Dimitri’s recovery demanded. And so, while Dimitri often fell asleep with Claude at his side, it had been since their time at the Academy that they’d actually _slept_ together.

That was changing tonight, though. After their dinner which had been so wonderfully interrupted by Dimitri’s realization, Claude had intended to escort Dimitri back to his chambers and sing him to sleep as always. But as they left the dining hall Claude had instead found Dimitri plucking at his sleeve and looking wistfully in the direction of Claude’s own chambers. Claude got the message, but he knew if he made Dimitri ask, he’d get to see him blush again. So he had just let the tug to his sleeve slow him down, and he turned to look at the prince.

“You can use your words, Dima,” he teased softly and, as expected, Dimitri took on the complexion of a strawberry.

“Claude…” he pouted, but Claude just shook his head and tutted at Dimitri until the prince gave in to what Claude wanted. “I… I never got up the courage to knock on your door at the Academy, but… that night we shared was the most wonderful night of my life. I… I had hoped that tonight, perhaps, I could… I could share with you again,” he said, and Claude felt his entire body go warm with affection for this beautiful man in front of him. He stood on his toes and grabbed either side of Dimitri’s face and pulled him down for a kiss. He heard the prince make a stifled noise of surprise but he relaxed into the touch quickly enough. Keeping the kiss brief, Claude pulled away to nod.

“Of course, my prince,” he said, and Dimitri’s smile blossomed across his face. Claude kept his hands cupped around Dimitri’s jaw. “…go get your pajamas on, then,” he said. “I’ll be making the tea.” Dimitri laughed softly as Claude recreated the very words he’d said on that night so long ago, and nodded. Dimitri still needed to take his medication for the evening; the brew hadn’t been served alongside dinner. Claude would mix it for him while he waited for the prince to return. Dimitri headed down the hallway that would take him to his chambers while Claude went to his own. Stepping inside the large room, he pressed his back against the door and took in a deep breath.

This was… happening. This was actually, _finally_ , happening. A breathless laugh escaped Claude’s lips as his hands went to his head and he _spun_ , disbelief and relief and joy bubbling all up together in his chest and making him feel lighter than air. If he’d been happy the first time Dimitri’d asked to come into his room that night all those years ago, what he felt now was stronger by magnitudes. Unlike that night, or even _last_ night, there were no blurred lines here. Claude was helplessly in love. And _Dimitri_ loved him back.

His hands went next to his lips, still tingling from the kiss out in the hallway. They were perhaps still even tingling from their _first_ kiss back in the dining hall, or perhaps the white magic that had been used on him so swiftly thereafter. Claude was most definitely not fond of the taste of blood, but that show of strength and want from Dimitri had been overpoweringly, overwhelmingly _hot_. It had been nothing like what Claude expected for their first kiss. He’d pictured something sweeter. Dimitri, stammering and shy as Claude confessed to him. Dimitri looking away, and Claude having to coax him back so they could share a tangled embrace of arms and tongues that neither of them would ever forget.

Well, even though it hadn’t been nearly what he had expected, there was still no chance of Claude ever forgetting what their first kiss had _really_ been like. When Dimitri had pulled him in and they had collided, Claude had seen stars – the good kind of stars. He had been breathless and shocked beyond belief but the surprise of it had only made the kiss that much sweeter. And… Dimitri had kissed _him._ There could be no denial of it now. Dimitri loved him back. _Dimitri loved him_.

Claude felt like doing cartwheels around the room, or dancing, or opening his window and screaming to the world to let everyone know that _Claude von Riegan has a boyfriend_. Instead, he squished his face into his hands and took a deep breath and willed himself to calm. He was supposed to be making tea. Chamomile, along with Dimitri’s special brew, as well. And, perhaps, it wouldn’t be a bad idea if he made himself a cup of that tonic that Teach had left behind for him, as well. She had been coaxing him to try it and see how it worked for him the whole time she’d been visiting, but she and Felix had returned to the Monastery a few days prior without him ever reporting back to her on it. He hadn’t really seen the need to take it, honestly – he was mostly fine, _especially_ compared to Dimitri. But Teach had told him that even a small dose of the anti-anxiety medication could help him out a lot on days where he felt unbalanced or when he knew things were going to be chaotic or stressful around him. He didn’t have it bad, or anything, it was just… well, after having lived through a war and experiencing the stresses of a battlefield, sometimes even relatively minor things could kick old soldiers into the overdrive they felt when their lives were in danger. Claude was mostly okay, he had healthy coping mechanisms for stress that he’d been developing since Almyra and a Crest that looked after him on the rare occasion when he forgot to do so, himself. But, he thought, right now? With his heart already racing a mile a minute and Dimitri on the way? Maybe a little bit of something to relax himself wouldn’t be a bad idea at all.

So after he stoked the fire in his room and set a pot on the hot stones nearby with water to boil, he made his way over to his stash of herbs and… other supplies that could be vaguely classified as medicinal. He kept the dangerous stuff locked up in drawers with a key that he kept on his person at all times, labeled in a code that only he could understand so that anyone who went messing about in there was more likely to poison themselves than to steal anything from his stash. However, the things with a more practical, safe use – things like Chamomile and Almyran Pine and Dimitri’s Remedy and his own – were clearly labeled so that they couldn’t be mixed up with anything more dangerous. Of course, he kept them locked up, too, so that no one would tamper with them. But unlike the other drawers in this cabinet, Marianne had a key to give access Dimitri’s medicine, too. He got out the four satchels of mixed herbs and tea, pouring the allotted amount into Dimitri’s cup and, with some small hesitation, put a pinch of the relaxation herbs into his own. He put the medicines away and took the teacups and the satchel of their respective favorite teas over to the table in his room just as he heard the kettle start to steam. And it was right when he’d gotten the kettle and poured the hot water over both he and Dimitri’s first cup that he heard a gentle knock at his door which could only be the prince.

“It’s open!” he called, settling down the hot teapot onto its tray and looking up as Dimitri stepped inside. He looked comfortable in the loose green tunic and beige trousers he wore to sleep in, and Claude found it rather adorable that the prince had also brought his own pillow along with him. Dimitri turned and closed the door and the words he murmured next had Claude beaming.

“Wouldn’t want our privacy disturbed,” he said as he turned the lock and cast a smile over his shoulder towards Claude. He quickly nodded his approval and motioned to the table.

“That cup’s yours,” he said, pointing out the one that contained Dimitri’s medication. He gestured over to his changing screen. “I’ll be back to join you in just a moment. I’ve got to get comfortable, myself.” Dimitri nodded and waved him onwards, placing his pillow on the foot of Claude’s bed for now as he made his way over to the table. Claude slipped behind his screen and pulled on a soft yellow tunic with a deep slit in the front. It had laces to pull the opening closed but after a moment of consideration, Claude left them loose. Maybe… he could still get that reaction he’d hoped for at dinner. He slipped into some comfortable trousers and came back around the screen to find Dimitri finishing his first cup of tea. The prince had his eye closed but when he heard Claude approaching, he looked up.

He spluttered.

Claude laughed softly at Dimitri’s reaction as he saw the prince’s face go red and he seemed torn between looking away and _looking_. Claude knew that showing this much of his chest was a scandal in Fodlan and he could only imagine it was even moreso of one to someone from Faerghus, where the freezing temperatures made it not only inappropriate, but entirely impractical to wear clothing so revealing. It was amusing to Claude. Growing up in Almyra where it was so hot all the time, people rarely wore clothing that they didn’t have to, just covering up the essentials. In the summer, children even ran around entirely naked during the burning days. Showing the line of his chest from his collarbone to the base of his ribs was _hardly_ a scandal in Claude’s mind which only made it more fun to tease the prince with. He tilted his head and gave Dimitri a wink. “Something wrong, your princeliness?” he asked. Dimitri, features still burning and expression still torn for a moment longer, seemed to finally make up his mind on what he wanted to do with the sight of Claude, and what he decided was that he would look. Claude was infinitely pleased when he saw Dimitri take a breath and look back over to him, his eye taking in slowly the few inches of sunkissed skin that he could see within the opening of Claude’s clothing.

“…no,” he said finally. “No. There’s nothing wrong,” he decided. Still, Claude could see how Dimitri had gone from holding his teacup to having his hands pressed flat against the table, and he remembered the pattern. Dimitri found it hard to control his strength and was nervous about breaking delicate things. So Claude sat down beside him after refilling his cup with Chamomile. He wrapped his hands around Dimitri’s cup and lifted it for him, a smile on his lips. Dimitri ducked his head slightly.

“Your tea is going to get cold,” he protested even as he placed his hands over Claude’s to pull the teacup to his mouth and sip. Claude shrugged one shoulder.

“Bet my mouth isn’t as dry as yours, though,” he teased, which earned him a half-hearted glare that made him chuckle. Oh, he knew _exactly_ what he was doing to Dimitri. And now he’d let Dimitri in on that fact, too.

“You’re relentless,” Dimitri said, putting his teacup down. Claude smiled his most innocent smile as he took his hands back, picking up his own teacup and sipping at it. The herbs were bitter and he coughed on them, brow furrowing at the taste even as he managed to choke it down. Dimitri watched him as he was quick to replace his first cup with a second, dropping the pine needles in but hardly allowing it to steep at all before he was taking a sip and swishing it around in his mouth to clear the taste. For something which was supposed to help him relax, the herbs certainly were making his gut churn quite a bit.

“You are taking something?” Dimitri asked with a small tilt of his head. The confusion made sense. Dimitri wouldn’t have seen him take something before because Claude _hadn’t_ been taking something before. He let out a deep breath and poured himself a third cup, leaning back to let this one steep properly to absorb the scent of the pine as he looked over to Dimitri.

“It’s just something Teach left for me. For nerves,” he explained. Dimitri studied him and Claude could see the gears turning in his head before he reached out his hand, holding it palm up in invitation.

“You are nervous,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Claude placed his hand in Dimitri’s and met his gaze. It’d be so easy to lie and brush it off. It was what he’d do with anyone else. But Dimitri wasn’t anyone else.

“Yeah. But not in an entirely bad way,” Claude said. “It’s… an excited kind of nervous,” he assured. “But it’s just a bit of how I am,” he said with a shrug. “When I get excited about something, it’s hard for me to relax, or focus on anything else. I figured that if I were going to be able to do any sleeping at all tonight with you in my arms, then I might just need a little extra help,” he said. Dimitri hummed.

“It is your first time taking it?” he asked. Again, Claude nodded, and this made Dimitri’s brow furrow. “Then you are not entirely certain what form the effects will take?” he asked, and Claude sighed and smiled gently.

“No, I suppose,” he said. “But if it were going to harm me, I would already know about that,” he said. He placed his free hand on the table, palm up, and manifested the Crescent. “This would tell me by now if it were something that my body recognized as poison. It’s a bit of a strange feeling, but it’s one I know how to recognize,” he explained. “I will be fine. You have no reason to be concerned,” he said.

Dimitri frowned. “I have plenty of reason to be concerned,” he insisted, though his expression softened soon after. “I trust you know what you’re talking about, though.” He turned his gaze to look at the mark Claude held in his palm, and after a moment, his eye widened. “The moon,” he announced suddenly. He brought forward his own Crest, holding its blue light alongside Claude’s golden. “The moon and the stars… so this is what Hilda was referring to,” he said, and Claude laughed.

“I believe that was her intent, yes,” he said. He let the light from his Crest linger for a little while longer before he curled his fingers once again and let it fade. Dimitri did the same. As Claude watched, the smile he wore from pride at his realization slowly faded as words said just a few moments ago caught up with him.

“Wait…” he said, turning back to Claude and staring right into his eyes. “You have been poisoned before?” he asked. Ah. Claude had wondered if Dimitri was going to catch that or not. He let the prince squeeze his fingers, shushing him gently.

“Well, you must remember my reputation back at the Academy,” he began, figuring it would be easier to start with the lighter stuff. “That the people who crossed me tended to end up with upset stomachs or cold sweats shortly thereafter. I’ll admit it, maybe it was a bit petty, but I’ve got a steady hand when it comes to mixing poisons,” he said. “I never really wanted to hurt anyone badly, though. So I always tested them first, and, well, it wasn’t like anyone was lining up to volunteer, so…” He shrugged. “I tested them on myself,” he said. Dimitri looked stunned.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” he asked, and Claude shrugged. He laughed. Humor was one of his coping mechanisms.

“Not with the stuff I was using. I knew that I could handle much worse,” he said. Claude allowed his gaze to drop to the edge of the table when he felt Dimitri squeeze his fingers, imploring him to explain.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Claude sighed and painted on his smile.

“Being an Almyran in Fodlan isn’t easy,” he began softly. “You know why I hide it; you’ve seen how Almyrans are treated here. Even at the Academy, there were loads of people in our class who didn’t like Cyril… you understand. It’s exactly how it is with people from Duscur,” he said, and Dimitri’s brow furrowed as his jaw clenched. Claude knew he had always hated the way Dedue was treated, part of the reason he’d kept Dedue so close was to protect him. Claude offered him a weak smile. “I think Dedue was lucky to have you,” he said. “You kept danger away from him, perhaps even more than you know,” he said. “I managed well enough on my own. So long as I talked the talk and walked the walk people here generally bought my act. But…” he sighed. “No one in Almyra has green eyes,” he said. “There, I was obvious, and… being Fodlani in Almyra isn’t easy, either. I’ve had a target on the back of my head since I was a baby,” he explained. Dimitri was holding his hand tighter still.

“And… and so people would _poison_ you?” he asked, horrified. Again, Claude tried to laugh.

“Poison in my food, on the edge of a dagger, on the tip of an arrow… been there, done that,” he said. “I’d already survived four assassination attempts by the time I was five years old. I started sleeping with my wyverns as soon as I learned how to escape my crib. No one approached baby Khalid when he had Jamshid and Sarbi looking over him,” he said. Dimitri looked torn up by the story. Before Claude realized what was going to happen, he had been plucked up from his chair and sat onto Dimitri’s lap while the prince embraced him. For a moment, Claude’s eyes widened and his heart picked up pace. Dimitri was _holding him_ again. Then he closed his eyes and settled in, feeling so incredibly safe in Dimitri’s powerful arms.

“I hate it,” Dimitri said. “I hate that the arbitrary borders we draw around this world are used as an excuse for hatred. That the way people look and where they come from means that it is all right to despise them. Something as random as your birth should not alone define you. The capacity of your heart and soul and the content of your character are things which matter so much more…” he murmured, and Claude nodded against his chest. This was part of why he loved Dimitri so much. Dimitri, too, shared in his dream of a world without borders.

Dimitri’s hand played softly with his hair. Claude _melted_ , even as Dimitri kept speaking. “I just don’t understand it. Why couldn’t they have let you live your life as any other ordinary Almyran?” he asked, and here, a small chuckle escaped Claude’s lips. Dimitri clearly hadn’t been expecting that reaction, because he shifted Claude in his arms and peered down at his face. Looking up, Claude gave a small shake of his head.

“It’s probably time I told you something, Dima,” he said quietly. “I mean… I do intend to keep you by my side for as long as I can, the rest of my life if I’m able and you’re willing,” he said. He chanced a look up at Dimitri’s face and saw his expression torn between confusion and curiosity.

“I… want that, too,” he affirmed, giving Claude a little squeeze. Reassured, Claude took a deep breath. This was… the last thing he had ever expected to confess to somebody from Fodlan. In his mind, it’d be something to come to light for everyone all at once, or never at all. With the winning of the war and the unification of Fodlan, he had high hopes for his future, and the future of Fodlan and Almyra both. His dream seemed possible, now. A world without borders, starting with Fodlan and Almyra. For it to be possible, though… he’d have to come clean. And while he had intended on this being an announcement made only _after_ things were settled in Almyra, he couldn’t keep this from Dimitri any longer, he felt. Not when their paths towards the future now seemed to be so heavily entwined.

“The truth is, I’m _not_ just any ordinary Almyran,” he said, taking a deep breath. “My mother is the daughter of the former Lord Riegan of Fodlan, as you know,” he said. “But my father…” Claude paused again and wondered if now would really be the best time. But Dimitri gave him another small squeeze and Claude’s nerves were steady. So he looked up into Dimitri’s face. “My father, who died ten years ago while I was still just a child, was… the King of Almyra,” he said. Dimitri’s eye went wide. Claude attempted a smile, but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “I was too young to take the throne when he died, and then… then I was spirited away to Fodlan by my grandfather when he needed an heir to present. But… in truth, I’m the Crown Prince of Almyra,” he said. “And they’ve been waiting for me to come home so I can become their King.”

“… _Prince_ Kahleed,” Dimitri said, and Claude peeked up at him. His smile was a little more genuine this time, and Dimitri cradled him and kissed his forehead and Claude was melting again, his tension gone _just like that_. “I can hardly believe it,” Dimitri confessed. “But I can see in your eyes that you are telling the truth,” he said. There was a pause. “…what… do you intend to do, Kahleed?” he asked, and Claude sighed heavily.

“Get things settled here, first. Make sure the Alliance is properly dissolved and that Teach has everything under control. Then… go home,” he said. “Face my responsibilities that I’ve run from for far too long. Be King, and use my power to make the world a better place, if I can,” he said. He looked up at Dimitri. “And… still have you by my side, always. That is my dream,” he said. Dimitri looked down at him with empathy, reaching to trace his thumb gently over Claude’s brow.

“I ran away from being King,” Dimitri said. “One could claim that it was not by my choice and that I was forced to flee, but… I did not choose to fight back. I turned my back upon my people and ran. And now… now I think that I am hardly fit to be King, bloodstained as I am…” Claude reached up and touched his face. He knew that Dimitri _could_ be King. He would have been a great King, compassionate towards his people. Perhaps he would have even been the _right_ King for a new dawn in Fodlan. But… the political tides were not pulling that way. The Kingdom was already in the process of being dissolved under Byleth and Felix’s guidance. There was no place for a King of Faerghus anymore. Selfishly, Claude thought that was a good thing. It meant that Dimitri could keep running. That he could run away with Khalid to Almyra.

Dimitri seemed to have his doubts, though. “Do you really think that someone like me would be welcomed by your side there?” he asked. “I… am strong, yes. A capable fighter. But I am a broken warrior. I would be of no worth at your side as your knight,” he said, and Claude reached up to lightly smack Dimitri’s shoulder, sitting up straight as he glared.

“Don’t say that!” Claude demanded, pressing a kiss to Dimitri’s cheek. “I would have no one else at my side,” he said. “If you do not want to be a knight, then you do not need to be. You can be anything you want! As long as it’s with me, I don’t care,” he said. “You could be a merchant, or a fisherman, or a painter, I don’t care. Anything you wanted to be. Just…”

“…at your side?” Dimitri finished for him, smiling softly, and Claude nodded fiercely. If Dimitri didn’t get it by now, then Claude fully intended to spell it out for him.

“I love you,” he said. “Never leave my side, Dima.” Dimitri hummed.

“…you had better start teaching me Almyran soon, then,” he said, and Claude’s cross expression faded at once into a look of wonder. Dimitri _agreed_. This perfect prince had agreed to stay by him, even if that meant leaving Fodlan entirely. Claude knew he would have to go, and he had feared that to do so would mean leaving everything about Fodlan behind. There were some things he was more than ready to leave here. But he didn’t think he would have been able to walk away without Dimitri. Relief coursed through him and he couldn’t help but to kiss Dimitri again.

“ _Duset daram_ ,” he said softly when he pulled back. “Is how to say ‘I love you’ in Almyran.” Dimitri smiled and tipped his head forward to kiss Khalid for himself.

“ _Duset daram_ ,” he parroted back, and Khalid felt his heart skip. Those words… he had never imagined them being said to him with a Fodlani accent. And yet, there they were. Khalid buried his face in Dimitri’s neck and speckled kisses everywhere as Dimitri just held him. Dimitri _held him_ and it was more wonderful than anything he could have possibly imagined. Khalid felt safe, here. Safe, protected, _wanted_ … He pressed his forehead into Dimitri’s shoulder and nipped softly at the fabric under his lips.

“Dima,” he began, and Dimitri hummed a questioning noise. Khalid felt himself blushing so he kept his face hidden. “I want your shirt off.” He felt Dimitri tense up beneath him and Khalid held his breath until Dimitri relaxed again.

“I… can do that,” he agreed, and Khalid dared to peek up at him. Dimitri’s face looked as red as Khalid’s felt, so he reached up to gently run his fingers along the cord of muscle that he saw in Dimitri’s neck. It jumped slightly under his touch.

“I won’t ask for more,” he promised, and knew it was the right thing to say when he felt some hidden tension leave Dimitri’s shoulders. Khalid smiled up at him. “And I promise I’ll make it even, too. If you want.” Dimitri looked confused by those words, so Khalid elaborated. “Take my shirt off,” he explained with a little laugh. “I wouldn’t be so crass as to make you be the only one half-naked.”

“O-oh,” Dimitri said, and his eye jumped down to where he could practically look down the front of Claude’s shirt already from the slit and the angle. Then his eye darted back up to Khalid’s face and he swallowed. “I… think that I might like that,” he confessed, and Khalid laughed again.

“You _think_?” he pressed, and Dimitri frowned. Then, he _growled_ , and that made something in Khalid’s stomach _swoop_. He was breathless when Dimitri leaned closer, held him tighter.

“Do not tease,” he scolded, and Khalid found himself powerless to do anything but nod. Gods, did Dimitri _know_ what he was doing with that growl? Did this shy, sweet, chaste and naïve boy _know_ what a noise like that did to him? Khalid had to just sit there and breathe for a moment. He watched as, impossibly, an impish little grin made its way onto Dimitri’s face. “Have I managed to render you speechless a second time?” he asked, and that broke the spell, little laughs bubbling out of Khalid’s throat.

“Who’s teasing now?” he asked, and Dimitri chuckled back at him and let him out of his lap. Khalid stood, putting a little _extra_ into his walk as he headed towards his bed. Behind him, he heard Dimitri growl again, and he _shivered_. Okay, that confirmed it. Dimitri knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

“Stop it,” Khalid chided, looking over his shoulder and startling a bit to see that Dimitri had followed right behind him. He had to tilt his head back to look up at the other prince, and he didn’t like how comparatively tiny he felt, looking up at him from this angle. He scowled softly. “I promised you that I wasn’t going to ask for more, but you keep doing that and you’ll tempt me to break that promise,” he said, and Dimitri hummed. He put his hands on Khalid’s waist and lifted him easily onto the bed, arranging him among the large pillows.

“Fine,” Dimitri responded when he finally spoke again. “…but it is good to know that there as at least one place where I may find an advantage over you,” he said, and Khalid flushed and stammered pointless noises in Dimitri’s direction as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Dimitri took a breath before grabbing the hem of his shirt and lifting it upwards, as Khalid requested. As pale skin was bared, Khalid leaned forward to touch, fingers brushing over what seemed like thousands of scars. Raised marks from the cut of blades, puncture wounds from lances – far, far too many of those, and he knew they were from Gronder – but beneath all of them were what Khalid had to assume were Dimitri’s oldest scars. Burn marks from Duscur. Nearly every inch of skin that he could see bore some sort of mark, but the burns were definitely the most prolific.

“…I… cannot imagine how much pain you’ve endured,” he murmured seriously and Dimitri shifted, sitting more on the bed so that he could face Khalid properly.

“I didn’t feel all of these,” he said. He didn’t look down at his body, didn’t seem to be able to, and Khalid wondered if he hated his scars, or worse, if he was _ashamed_ of them. Now didn’t seem to be the time to ask, though, because Dimitri was continuing quietly. “I remember the pain of the burns, and even still, I… have a strong fear of fire,” he confessed. “But the flames took a lot from me, more than just my family. I have already mentioned that I do not have a strong sense of taste, nor dexterity in my fingers,” he said. “But… wherever the fire touched me, I also feel nearly nothing,” he said. Khalid looked up at Dimitri with widened eyes. He… couldn’t imagine. Going through life as numb to the world as Dimitri was… was it any wonder that it had been so easy for him to turn into a monster during the war? Unable to help it, Khalid reached forward and pulled Dimitri into his arms. Dimitri wrapped his own arms around him in turn and they held one another.

“Can you feel me?” Khalid asked, and he could tell Dimitri thought hard about his words before he spoke.

“Some,” he said. “I can feel the pressure of your weight against mine. And where our skin meets, I can feel that it is warm. But if I had my eye closed, I would not be able to tell what, exactly, you were. If you were a person or a wyvern or a horse or a dog… and if you were not warm, I would not even be able to tell the difference between you and my own armor,” he confessed. Khalid tried for a joke.

“Trust me… you’d be able to tell if I were a wyvern. I have personal experience,” he said, and he did succeed in making Dimitri laugh at that. Pulling back, Khalid met his gaze, running his thumb along Dimitri’s collarbone. “…don’t worry,” he said. “We have all the time in the world. You’ll learn what my touch feels like,” he said. “So that even if you were blind and deaf you would know that it was me by your side. I want to learn you,” he said. “I’ll find where you can feel and where you can’t, and I’ll make sure you’ll always know it’s me,” he promised. “My best friend and my beloved, I want to delight you in every way I can. I’ll learn exactly how,” he pledged, and Dimitri looked at him with deep affection.

“I want the same,” he echoed. “I know that I am not the best at being gentle. But I swear, I will never again harm you with my touch,” he said. Khalid reached up quickly, putting his fingers over Dimitri’s lips.

“If you do, know that I forgive you,” he said. Dimitri’s expression went soft, but he gave a tiny smile and shook his head.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said. Khalid grinned.

“I’m sorry. Carry on, then.”

“I want my strength to be yours,” Dimitri said, his hands moving forward to rest on Khalid’s hips. “To protect and defend you, to love you and lift you up,” he said. “Just as your love has been for me, I want mine to be the same for you. You have been… everything to me, Kahleed. There is no one I trust more, and I hope… I hope that you, too, feel like you can lean on me,” he said. “I am entirely yours. I love you, and I will learn every way I can to express my love.”

Khalid smiled. He reached for Dimitri’s hands and guided them to the hem of his own shirt and watched as Dimitri’s features went rose. He guided him gently, but allowed it to be Dimitri’s hands that slipped his shirt up and over his shoulders. When the fabric pulled away from his face, he caught Dimitri blushing and staring at his own toes. “Dima, you can _look_ ,” he laughed, and Dimitri nodded.

“I know, I know,” he said. He sat aside Claude’s shirt and then looked up at Khalid, taking him in fully. Khalid watched him breathe – it sped up a little – as he reached out to settle his hand against the smooth, dark skin of Khalid’s side.

“…have you no scars?” he asked, and Khalid shook his head quietly.

“My Crest,” he said by way of explanation, and Dimitri nodded. The Crest of Riegan was powerful, one of the only known Crests with the ability to heal its holder. He had been hurt plenty of times, experiencing everything from the scraped knees of childhood to attempts on his life. But his body had an innate, remarkable ability in self-repair, and its healing did not leave marks behind. He gave a soft shiver as Dimitri’s hand slid up his side and to his collarbone, where he leaned down to place a gentle kiss. When he pulled back and noticed Khalid trembling slightly, he smiled.

“You are sensitive,” he observed. Khalid flushed, but Dimitri only chuckled softly. “Is it because you let no one touch you?” he asked, and Khalid squirmed a bit as Dimitri’s fingers grazed over his neck and drew tiny circles at his jaw and his breath caught at the sensation. Last time someone’d had their hands this close to his neck, they’d been choking him to death. Of _course_ he didn’t trust people to touch him.

“No one but you,” he affirmed, and Dimitri seemed quite pleased with that. His eye looked up and watched Khalid’s expression closely as he _growled_ again, and Khalid’s eyes went wide and he went still, falling back among the pillows with his jaw loose. Before he could recover, Dimitri was claiming his lips in a kiss, holding Khalid so tightly he could not have escaped if he wanted to.

Khalid was far from wanting to escape, though. Dimitri was _good_ at this, far better than he had expected him to be and he had to wonder how someone as shy as Dimitri knew what sort of buttons to press in this situation. Then, it hit him.

_Sylvain_. Of course it had to be Sylvain. The man had always made it his business to tell every guy at the Academy just what they needed to do to be a king in the bedroom. And Dimitri had known Sylvain since long before their school days. Even if Dimitri hadn’t sought out information like this, who _knew_ what he’d learned from being around Sylvain?

And yet, it was still subtly clear that Dimitri wasn’t entirely sure of what he was doing. Khalid could tell he didn’t know where to put his hands and so he reached around to guide them himself, putting one at the base of his skull and the other around his middle, supporting him as Dimitri leaned over him for the kiss. Maybe Sylvain had taught him a trick or two. But Khalid knew they still had plenty to learn about each other on their own. Like, for example, that Dimitri could hold his breath longer than Khalid could, apparently. He was actually dizzy when Dimitri pulled back from the kiss, but he was still smiling as he gasped for air. Dimitri backed off, lying down beside him and stroking his hair gently as Khalid breathed.

“…sorry,” he heard Dimitri murmur, but Khalid shook his head.

“It was _sexy_ , Dima,” he returned. His entire self felt alight from it. He turned to look into Dimitri’s eye. “I’d choose you over breathing in a heartbeat, if I could,” he said, making the other man blush deeply.

“I… don’t think I’m ready to do anything more than this, yet,” he said, and Khalid gave a nod. If Dimitri wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready. Khalid didn’t feel the need to demand an explanation, but Dimitri offered one, regardless. “I need to feel more in control of my strength before we do,” he said. “I never, _ever_ want to hurt you on accident again.”

“I know,” Khalid said, rolling onto his side so he could place his hand over Dimitri’s heart. His hand looked small on Dimitri’s chest, and the way their skin contrasted with one another made him smile. To think… to think he’d one day end up in bed with a Prince of Fodlan. It was a future he would have never dreamed about. Now, he wouldn’t choose any other. He peeked up through his eyelashes at Dimitri and cleared his throat and shifted subtly. “I’ll, um, need a minute, though,” he said, and Dimitri’s eye started to wander downwards before he realized what he was doing and his gaze snapped back to Claude’s face.

“Oh. Of course,” he said, sitting up. “Should I…?”

“Perhaps you could put away the teapot for me?” Claude asked as he rolled onto his back and stared at the canopy of his bed. Dimitri made a noise of affirmation and Claude closed his eyes. _Think unsexy thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts._ He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth and found himself surprisingly slipping into a meditative state with ease. It had to be that medicine from Teach. Gods, was he grateful for it now. He listened to the sound of Dimitri carefully wiping clean their cups and the teapot and stacking it all back onto the tray. When it got quiet in the room once again, he opened his eyes.

“I’m all right, now,” he called. “You can come back.” It was only a couple seconds before the bed dipped and Dimitri was climbing in beside him. Claude sat up and pulled his shirt back on, knowing well enough that Dimitri’s hands against his bare skin would work him up all over again, even if Dimitri wasn’t trying. He was pleased when he saw that Dimitri opted for no shirt as he lay down under the blankets, though. Claude slid under the sheets and reached for Dimitri, but before he could pull Dimitri’s head to his shoulder, Dimitri was doing the exact same to Claude, instead. He pulled Claude right up against his side and Claude stared up from his shoulder into his eye, cheeks rosy.

“…you like it when I hold you, do you not?” Dimitri asked, and Claude broke into a smile.

_More than anything,_ he thought. “Yeah. Yeah, I like it a lot,” he said, and Dimitri smiled back at him. He put his hand on the side of Claude’s face and nudged him until he was pillowed on Dimitri’s shoulder, tucked up in the space between his arm and his body. “…I feel so safe,” Claude confessed. He didn’t look up at Dimitri as he continued. “I _do_ feel protected by you, Dima. I wouldn’t feel this way with anyone else,” he murmured.

“Good,” Dimitri responded softly. His fingers were running through Claude’s hair as Claude settled in, closing his eyes. This was so different and wonderful. Claude hoped that Dimitri had felt even _half_ this protected in Claude’s own hold. He tossed an arm over Dimitri’s chest to hold him in return, squishing as close to his beloved’s side as he could. There was only one thing that didn’t change.

Khalid sang.

_“Lalae kon, lalae kon,_

_Maman tanhat nemizare,_

_Duset dare, duset dare,_

_Mishine paye gahvare…”_


	17. Nightmare

_Cold._

_He was cold._

_Dimitri groaned softly and opened his eye. He shifted and he heard the rattle of chains._

_Move._

_He couldn’t move._

_He tried again. He heard the rattle of chains once more and his heart started to race as panic clawed up his throat. No. Not this. Please. Not this._

_“Poor, poor prince.”_

_She was back. Dimitri tried to scream but when he opened his mouth his vocal cords weren’t working. He only managed a thin, strained whimper as Cornelia laughed down at him._

_“No better than a beast. A blood bag, that’s all you are, now.”_

_Dimitri tried again to move, but there was a heavy weight holding him down. He tried again to speak but all that left him were feral, animalistic noises. Cornelia wasn’t alone in the room with him anymore. The mages were back and, like leeches, they pressed his body full of tubes that drained his blood. He tried to scream as he felt the life being sucked out of him._

_Cold. He was so, so cold._

_He thrashed, tossing his head and growling again. He had to get out of here. He had to get out. The chains – he had to break the chains. He had to get out._

_But his body was so heavy. There was a weight on his right arm that felt more tangible than the chains and it frightened him. He couldn’t move his arm. He couldn’t move at all._

_He needed to. He had to break free. He couldn’t let them do this to him again-!_

_A frenzied yell tore from his throat as he managed to jerk his right arm free. The weight that had been there was gone, cast off and thrown away. Distantly, he heard a body hit the floor and he hoped it was Cornelia._

_“Get away from me!” he yowled, fear clogging his throat as he growled, terrified. “Get away from me!”_

“Dimitri…”

_Who was saying his name? Cornelia never said his name. Not like that, not laden with concern and fear. But the brief confusion he felt at hearing himself called was short-lived. Cornelia’s face was soon back in front of his own and she was snarling at him._

_“You’ll never escape. You are trapped, and no one is looking for you.”_

_Trapped. Trapped forever. Cornelia’s hand was on his face and her nails dug in sharply as she hissed at him._

_“Since you’re never going to see sunlight again, why don’t I just take your other eye? It isn’t as though you need it. And you screamed so prettily the first time…”_

_No. No, NO, NO NO NONONONO-_

_Dimitri’s head tossed and he tried to scream again. Get her away. Get her hand off his face, he couldn’t- her nails were so sharp- please, no. Please, Goddess, no! His breaths came in short, ragged gasps. Get them away, he had to get them away- Cornelia’s hand was on his face, holding him like a vice as her other hand reached up and her fingers slowly became the only thing in his vision…_

_“Pluck it right from your skull. Think about it, Prince. It’s a mercy… you won’t have to see your torment anymore. Just go blind, become a beast… it’s all you are. It’s all you ever were.”_

_A terrified sob worked its way out of his throat. Cornelia’s hand- her nails were so sharp- he was scared. So scared. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t hide. Scared. Scared._

“Lalae kon, lalae kon…”

_That voice… Claude?_

“Duset dare, duset dare…”

_Claude._

_Slowly, Dimitri felt his breathing even out. The weight was gone. The mages were gone. Cornelia was gone. The chains were gone. All banished by the sound of his savior’s voice. It filled him up and the cold ebbed away. Dimitri lifted his head and there was sunlight. Claude was standing there, his angelic voice wrapping around Dimitri like a warm, soothing blanket._

_He was warm._

_So warm._

_Slowly, he shifted. He settled. He breathed. Claude was here. Claude was here, which meant that nothing could get to him anymore. No torture. No ghosts. No nightmares._

_No more nightmares._

He slept.


	18. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: M rating ahead. *blush*

He was unsure which of the two of them fell asleep first. But Claude was definitely the first to wake, and not in a way he expected. Seemed like his life was doomed to be full of Dimitri-related surprises if they were to stay together, but Claude really hoped that this was the first and only time he’d be woken up by being tossed out of the bed. He felt the wind knocked out of him as he landed on the floor, sitting up quickly and rubbing the back of his head as he tried to figure out what was going on. There on the bed, he could see Dimitri tossing and turning, his breaths coming in short, hard gasps.

“Get away from me,” he growled, but this growl was the sound of a cornered, frightened dog with nowhere to run. “ _Get away from me_!”

“Dimitri…” Claude murmured, feeling helpless as he got on his knees there by the bed. The noises his beloved was making in his sleep were terrifying. He growled, he whimpered, he _sobbed_. Claude didn’t get close, this time. He knew what would likely happen to him if he got in arm’s reach of Dimitri. He knew that if he started shouting, guards would come running to try and find out what was going on. The only thing that he could hope for was that his lullaby might reach Dimitri this time.

So he sang. He sang until Dimitri stopped tossing and his breathing evened out again. He sang until he was hoarse and the sky began to get lighter. He didn’t stop singing, because it was helping Dimitri. He didn’t want to stop and go back to sleep only for Dimitri to fall back into his nightmare. Claude had gone sleepless plenty of times; his Crest gave him the endurance to push his body well past its usual limit. Sitting up for half a night was hardly going to do him in.

Still, he was ashamed to say, he didn’t make it all the way to morning. It had to be that stuff Teach gave him, because normally he had no trouble staying awake when he needed to. He was incredibly surprised, then, when he found Dimitri shaking him awake from where Claude had nodded off leaning against the wall.

“Claude? Claude, are you all right?” Dimitri was asking him, and Claude let out a little groan, rolling his head to stretch the knot in his neck.

“I’m fine, Dima. Don’t worry about it,” he said, clearing his throat and coughing a few times. Gods, his throat felt sore. He supposed that’s what he got for using it for hours straight.

“Why were you down here?” Dimitri returned, his brows creased. “Did I do something? Say something in my sleep?” he asked, and Claude felt his heart ache at how incredibly concerned Dimitri looked. The man looked like a puppy that thought he was in trouble. Hoping to silence those worries, Claude leaned up to kiss him before he tried to explain.

“You got restless in the middle of the night. Bad dreams, it seemed like,” he said, brushing his fingers along Dimitri’s jaw. “I didn’t want a repeat of last time. So I stayed out of your reach and sang to you until it seemed like you were sleeping again,” he said. Dimitri frowned. He obviously didn’t like that.

“If I had calmed, why didn’t you come back?” he asked. Claude shrugged, stretching his arms a bit.

“I wanted to keep watching over you. I intended to sing for you until morning. I didn’t expect to take a nap on the wall,” he confessed.

“You… tried to sing for me all night?” Dimitri asked. He looked touched, but then he frowned again. Then he pulled Claude into his chest and held him. “While that was incredibly sweet of you, Claude, please don’t do it again. Come back to bed with me,” he requested. “If I am calm, then come back.”

Claude let out a hoarse laugh and ended up coughing again. “I will,” he said as Dimitri squeezed him tighter.

“You sound horrible,” he murmured. Claude shrugged. He knew he did. The statement didn’t require an answer, so he didn’t provide one. He just held still as Dimitri pulled back and linked his fingers to gently press them against the front of Claude’s throat. “I must learn more healing magic from Marianne,” he decided aloud. “It seems with me around, there might be no end to the minor injuries you may sustain.”

You’re worth it, Claude opened his mouth to say. But before he could, Dimitri’s large hands were at his throat and white magic bloomed from his fingertips and seeped into his neck. It was warm, caressing, and soothing. The feeling sent goosebumps shooting over his skin and he trembled as his eyes rolled back. Someone moaned, and it took Claude a second to realize that it had been _him_. Dimitri finished healing his throat and pulled away and Claude fell right into his arms, still feeling chills.

“…your neck is _quite_ sensitive, isn’t it?” Dimitri asked when one of them was finally brave enough to break the silence. Claude, flushed and flustered, nodded against Dimitri’s shoulder. The prince hummed and rubbed Claude’s back as he stayed pressed against him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he promised, and Claude finally shook himself back to reality.

“I’m… sorry about that. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s nothing to apologize for, Claude,” Dimitri assured him. “I could tell you weren’t expecting it to affect you like that. Are you all right?” he asked. “You sound better, at least.”

“I think so. Just a bit of honey in my tea and I think I’ll be all better, thank you, Dimitri,” he said, finally managing to pull back. Gods, he thought. This prince was going to be the death of him. He reached up to brush Dimitri’s hair out of his face. “And you?” he asked. “The nightmare seemed… bad. Do you remember it at all?” From the way Dimitri’s gaze lowered, he did. Claude thought he was going to have to pry the answer from him but eventually the other nodded.

“I do,” he said. “It was… from my time in Shambhala,” he said. “I do not remember much of that place, but… the entire time I was there, I was kept drugged so I couldn’t use the power of my Crest against those that were containing me. Whatever they gave me put me in a constant state of drowsiness… I was unsure what was real and what wasn’t, the whole thing was a nightmare… so when I dream about it, it still feels real. Like I am back there again,” he confessed. Claude shushed him, climbing properly into Dimitri’s lap and wrapping all his limbs around him in an embrace.

“If you need to speak about your nightmares, I am here. If you need me to sing and put the ghosts to rest, I will,” Claude assured him. “Just say what you need, Dima.” Dimitri’s arms came around him to hold him close and he slowly relaxed.

“It is not so frightening in the light of day,” he said. “Let me just hold you and be sure that you are real.”

“I am,” Claude promised. He desperately hoped that Dimitri believed that. He couldn’t _imagine_ what it must be like inside Dimitri’s head if he was constantly questioning reality, but that fortunately did not seem to be the case. Dimitri nodded and turned to press a kiss to Claude’s cheek. Then another a bit lower, on his neck, and Claude let out a shivery little gasp. The third kiss at his collarbone had a hint of teeth and Claude squealed and squirmed in his hold. “Dimitri!” he scolded, only to listen as the prince just chuckled.

“I know you are real,” he said. “My ghosts don’t make such wonderful noises.” He nipped again at Claude’s throat. “Where do you think you are going? Stop squirming, I am not done with you,” he insisted and went back to slowly ravaging Claude’s sensitive neck. Claude squirmed for all he was worth, unable to hold still as Dimitri marked him. What the hell was the prince thinking with this? It seemed like he’d needed a distraction from his own thoughts, for sure, but Claude had expected him to ask for the lullaby, ask for tea. Instead, it seemed like the prince had come up with a new idea all his own. Dimitri kept him trapped right where he was as he laved affection onto Claude’s throat and it was the most wonderful torment he had ever experienced. He struggled and gasped and moaned and, and, and-

He cursed the name of a Goddess that he didn’t believe in as he felt himself come entirely undone.

Eventually he lay still as Dimitri’s kisses slowly became soft again. Claude _whined_ , low and longing, as he felt Dimitri drag his tongue across the oversensitive patch of skin that he had claimed all for himself.

“It’s too warm for me to wear a scarf out, Dimitri,” Claude said as his final protest when Dimitri’s lips came to just rest at his collarbone. Dimitri chuckled softly.

“I feel no regret,” he responded smartly. Claude smacked his shoulder.

“You’re one _hell_ of a blushing virgin, Dima,” he said, and Dimitri bit him in retaliation, making Claude shiver and melt. “Don’t start again,” he said. “You’ll drive me _mad_.”

“I can’t help it. You make beautiful noises,” Dimitri said, feigning innocence. Claude smacked him, and Dimitri nipped back.

“You’re going to kill me with this,” Claude whispered, and again Dimitri chuckled. He finally relented this time, though, allowing Claude to pull away and startling suddenly at the mess he found between them. Claude was blushing furiously and couldn’t meet Dimitri’s eyes. “You weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t able to feel much, were you?” he asked, and Dimitri cleared his throat, finally having the decency to look apologetic.

“I, um, didn’t realize,” he said, and Claude sighed, but he couldn’t stay mad. Really… it had sort of been… well. Fantastic was the word. He stood up and pulled his tunic down to cover the spot in his trousers. He shook his head at Dimitri and sighed and smiled.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. Much,” he said with a little wink. Dimitri cleared his throat and looked away, just as flushed as Claude was. “Just let me change clothes and all will be well. There’s a washcloth and basin over there, you can wipe yourself down,” he said, nodding towards his vanity as he made the awkward shuffle over to his changing screen.

It took him a while to find an outfit that would cover up Dimitri’s work until his Crest mended it for him, but he eventually managed to put something together. A high necked black shirt without sleeves would do well enough. He wore yellow, too – he was glad it was House Riegan’s color, because he’d always been fond of it and the sunshine looked good in contrast with his complexion. So he pulled on yellow trousers and a short cloak to cover his shoulders. Heaven forbid he walk around in public with his _shoulders_ showing here. The clothing was loose and breathed easily enough, but when he stepped out and Dimitri still blushed at the sight of him Claude wondered if he was _still_ showing too much skin for his partner’s delicate Fodlani sensibilities.

“Shall I add my archer’s armor?” he asked Dimitri. “It’ll cover my arms more,” he said, and Dimitri cleared his throat and moved over to retrieve his own shirt from where it had landed on the floor sometime last night.

“Perhaps,” he said softly, and Claude sighed in the shape of a smile as he went over to a large trunk and pulled out the long gloves and leather pieces that made up the flexible pauldron and gauntlets. He put them on with ease and, while he was in the trunk, he rummaged until he came out with a training bow and quiver of arrows.

“Maybe I should take this as a sign. It’s been a bit since I’ve done any target practice. Things here have been busy,” he said. As he straightened, bow and quiver secured, he looked up and found Dimitri staring at him longingly. “What is it?” he asked. “My ankles will get covered when I put my boots on,” he teased, but that did not seem to be the issue at hand.

“I… miss training, as well,” Dimitri confessed, and Claude smiled.

“Well, there’s an easy solution for that. Join me,” he proposed easily, but Dimitri still seemed uncertain.

“I do not have anything to wear,” he said. Claude hummed, tapping his chin.

“Raphael is a knight here. I am certain we can cobble together some things of his to fit you until I either get something commissioned or your things arrive from Fhirdiad,” he suggested. He watched Dimitri’s surprise, and smiled as he knew exactly what the other was thinking. “Yes, Dima, of course we’re going to get your things. I’ve already discussed it with Felix, he’s agreed to head back to the Kingdom at the earliest opportunity and, as he put it, ‘rummage through your junk’,” he quoted. “You know, he left a couple days ago. He and Teach travel fast, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of your things were already on their way.”

“I… can’t repay this,” Dimitri said. Claude chuckled, folding his hands behind his head.

“You know me well,” he teased. “You know that I never do anything for free, don’t you, Dima? Good thing for you, I’ve decided that you sticking by my side is repayment enough for me,” he said. Winked. “So don’t you ever go dying on me again, all right? I don’t think I could stand the heartbreak if it happened a third time after all of this.”

He saw Dimitri coming for him and laughed as he braced himself. Dimitri scooped him off the ground and kissed him, spinning with him in his arms. When he was put on the ground again, Claude was breathless and smiling.

“ _Duset daram_ ,” Dimitri said to him, and Claude stood on his toes.

“ _Duset daram_ ,” he returned fondly, and kissed him once more.


	19. Lessons

It felt good to be back. Despite the fact that he wore armor cobbled together between Raphael’s old stuff and whatever Claude had managed to find in the barracks, Dimitri was glad to be back on the training field with a lance in his hand. It felt even better when he began to notice Claude missing his shots when Dimitri started facing off against a training dummy. An arrow plinked off the wall well behind the target Claude was shooting at and Dimitri looked over to catch Claude staring at him. He paused in his training routine to cast a smile over towards the archer, and Claude gave a wry little grin of his own in return.

“What? You’re looking good,” he complimented, and Dimitri chuckled, reaching up to shift the fur cape around his shoulders.

“Do I make a good brigand?” he asked, and Claude laughed.

“A very good one. The eye patch especially is a nice touch. You’re terrifying,” he praised, and Dimitri chuckled even as he reached up to rub one hand over his missing right eye. The nightmare he’d had last night had brought the memories of how he’d lost it back into clearer focus, but… outside, in the sunlight, dark thoughts were far away and Dimitri could push them aside with far more ease than he used to. Claude had never asked and Dimitri had never offered the information on how he’d lost it. Maybe someday they would talk about that, likely late one night with the lights out and tangled in each other’s arms when Dimitri found that it was the easiest to be open and honest to Claude about everything. For now, though, Claude just shook his head and approached his target to collect his arrows, slipping them once again into the quiver on his back before going back to his mark. Dimitri watched as he knocked two arrows at once and sent them flying towards the target, both landing dead center only a few millimeters apart from one another. Dimitri had long known that Claude had a reputation as the best archer at the Academy but he couldn’t recall a time when he’d found himself on the training grounds at the same time as Claude. If Dimitri thought he was impressive now, he could only imagine what he’d be thinking about seeing Claude taking down targets from the back of a wyvern.

“You’re staring,” Claude called, and Dimitri chuckled. As though Claude hadn’t been?

“Who taught you archery?” he asked instead of responding to the jibe, and Claude let loose another volley before he responded.

“My father,” he said. Dimitri nodded. The King of Almyra… he could only imagine such a man to be imposing, if the tales he’d heard of Almyrans were true. Then again, all the tales he’d heard about them were as fierce, savage raiders who attacked from the skies on the backs of screaming wyverns, which was quite a different image than what Claude had painted for him all those years ago when Dimitri’d asked him what Almyra was really like. It was likely that Dimitri’s perception of them was entirely wrong – certainly, any father who would take the time to teach their son a skill so treasured to the Almyrans as archery had to be a good man. It reminded Dimitri of his own father, Lambert, and the afternoons that even a busy king had taken to train his son in the art of the lance. Dimitri had lost his father when he was twelve. Claude, too, mentioned that his father had died a decade ago. They weren’t so dissimilar, the pair of them.

Dimitri leaned against his polearm, taking a proper break to watch Claude for a while. “Working with a lance always reminds me of time I spent with my father,” he said. “For all my strength, I do not think that I will ever be able to match what he could do. I lack the precision,” he said. “Even still, when I am on the training grounds with a lance in my hand, I feel closer to him. Do you feel the same with the bow?” he asked, and Claude gave a little nod.

“My father was a great man,” he said. “A good king and a good dad, too. Even though he’d married a woman from Fodlan, he had the perfect control and respect of all the warlords. He was known to be as good an orator as he was a Barbarossa, a rare skill among Almyran kings. Most people there respect only strength and honor in battle. But my father was just as loved off the battlefield as he was upon it.” Claude smiled slightly and fired at the target once again. His arrow split one down the bull’s-eye. “He did his best to teach me everything he knew in the short time we had together. How to defend myself from people who wanted to do me harm, how to protect myself with words and arrows both. He gave me Jamshid and Sarbi when I was only three years old. They were hatchlings then, too – that’s the best way to raise wyverns, he told me. Convince them that you’re their sibling and their loyalty will be unmatched,” he explained. “He was wonderful. I can only hope that I live up to his name. He left behind quite a void that I must try to fill.”

Dimitri’s expression softened as he saw how worry dampened Claude’s features when he spoke about living up to his father’s name. It was a worry Dimitri had faced himself as a young prince. The weight of expectation lay heavily upon his shoulders, but he could only imagine it was worse for Claude. After all, no matter what he said or did, people would always judge him for being half-foreign no matter where he was living. Claude would likely have to work twice as hard as his father had to earn the respect of his people just because he had Fodlani blood. It was unfair. But, maybe, if Claude worked hard enough, he could meet every expectation and beat every doubt to make the opinion of his people turn entirely on its head. Dimitri knew that Claude dreamed of a world where someone’s place of origin didn’t matter, a world where people of Fodlan and Almyra and Duscur and everywhere else in the world could all hold hands and build a better future together. If there was anyone who could make it happen, Dimitri believed that it was Claude.

“You can do it,” he offered quietly to the other prince, making Claude pause and turn towards him with a smile.

“With you by my side, Dima, I feel like I can do anything,” he returned, and Dimitri flushed. He hadn’t expected the compliment to be turned around on him but it warmed him from the inside out. To distract himself from his own embarrassment, he turned back to beating up the training dummy. He only got two more hits in before he squeezed the training lance too tightly and it splintered apart in his hands. He heard Claude laughing quietly behind him and turned to see him approaching.

“I’m sorry, Dima. I didn’t know it would affect you that much,” he said, and Dimitri grunted as he looked at the broken lance in his hands.

“This is not an uncommon occurrence. I’ll just get another one,” he assured. Claude’s fingers reached out and touched his wrist, and when he spoke again, the words took Dimitri completely by surprise.

“Why don’t I come along? I can pick up a training axe. Then you and I can both come back out here and we can spar,” he suggested. Dimitri’s eye boggled.

“Claude, I cannot raise a weapon against you,” he protested, feeling his heart beating in his throat at the concept. He had hurt Claude already far more than he ever wanted to. He would never, ever forget the sight of Claude laying in a pool of blood on the floor of his bedroom and knowing that he was responsible. To think about what he had done, and what he had _nearly_ done, still tore him all to pieces on the inside. Before he could stop himself he had reached up to place his hand against Claude’s cheek over the spot where he’d struck him before. Claude’s expression went soft and he sighed as he tilted his head into Dimitri’s hand.

“Dima, it will be okay. You’ll see, this will help,” he said. Dimitri didn’t know how it could, but as Claude continued, he slowly started to become more convinced. “You said that you needed to feel more in control. I understand that one hundred percent. So we have to start working towards that goal,” he said. “Come on, think about it. This’ll kill two birds with one stone. You can practice your restraint, but you can also see that I’m not as defenseless against you as you seem to think I am,” he said. His smile quirked. “You caught me off guard once. It’s not going to happen again. I can _promise_ you that. Trust me. You’ll see,” he insisted, and Dimitri sighed. He could see the logic in it, and he knew that Claude was probably right. That didn’t make him any less unnerved by the prospect, but he slowly consented with a nod.

“Very well. I’ll try it,” he said. “But _only_ if you go fetch Marianne to watch the two of us. Should something happen to you, I want her close at hand,” he insisted. Claude smiled and Dimitri was relieved when he agreed.

“All right, fair enough. I fight better when I’m showing off for someone, anyways,” he responded with a wink, and Dimitri let out another breath. For once, he wished Claude would be serious about this. As much as his humor and deflection was an attempt to make Dimitri feel better, Dimitri had also recently become aware that Claude’s jokes and grins and little winks were his way of downplaying his own emotions, a mask of nonchalance which he hid behind to cover his own anxieties. It was difficult for Dimitri to tell when Claude was genuinely joking or when he was just saying what he thought would make Dimitri feel better. They both still had a lot to learn about the other, but Dimitri was determined that they would get there. Claude gave his wrist a little squeeze and stepped back. “I’ll go find Marianne. You go get me an axe and a couple lances for yourself. Knowing you, we might go through a few of them before we call it quits,” he teased, and this time Dimitri did chuckle.

“You know me well,” he agreed, sitting the broken lance down by the training dummy as he headed for the barracks while Claude turned back towards his manor. Dimitri gathered a training axe and half a dozen lances before heading back. He hoped he wouldn’t go through all six of them, but as nervous as he was feeling, he figured that it may be better safe than sorry. He kept a very close eye on his hands as he walked back towards the training grounds, making sure he didn’t squeeze the weapons too tightly and break them on the way there. He thought he’d have a few minutes to breathe and calm himself before Claude got back, so he was a bit dismayed to see that he’d already returned with Marianne and beaten him back to the training grounds by the time he returned. Marianne must have been easy to find.

“Thank you, Dima,” Claude said, taking the axe from him and pacing out a few steps as Marianne sat down under the only tree in the yard, a good few meters away from them. Dimitri took his own paces and dropped his pile of lances, save for one. Then, he turned to face Claude, who had taken up a ready stance across from him. Was he really certain about sparring Dimitri like this? Claude’s reputation as an archer was fearsome, but Dimitri hadn’t even known he was trained in the axe. His stance and form looked good from what Dimitri could tell, but he was no expert in axefaire either. Did he really think he could actually stand toe-to-toe with Dimitri? Was he being overconfident in an attempt to try and get Dimitri to stop worrying so much? If he was, it definitely wasn’t working. Dimitri snapped the training lance with one hand as he stood there and tried to control his breathing, fist clenched tightly around the wood.

Claude straightened up, letting out a sigh as he let his arms drop to his sides. “ _Dima_ ,” he said, and Dimitri ducked his head, feeling shame crawl in his gut. He didn’t even have the restraint to keep from breaking a lance just at the _thought_ of wielding it against Claude. Claude approached him and reached out but Dimitri warned him away with a growl. He didn’t want Claude near him right now. He felt too dangerous.

“Okay, okay,” Claude said, putting his hands up. “I won’t touch you. But, please, Dimitri, I still want to try this. I really do think it will help,” he said. “How about this? You just take up a defensive position and I’ll come at you, all right? You don’t have to do anything but stand there and block. I just want to prove to you that I can handle myself, even against you,” he suggested, and that made Dimitri able to breathe again. It sounded like a much better idea, so he nodded and discarded his second lance to pick up a new one. He couldn’t hurt Claude if he wasn’t attacking. He could do this. He took up a defensive stance and nodded.

“I am rea-” was all he managed to say before Claude came at him with a roar, catching him completely by surprise. Dimitri lifted the lance to block the axe that came flying at his face only for Claude to snap it with a swift downward strike. Claude backed off with a grin as Dimitri stared at the two broken pieces of his weapon in shock.

“Come on,” Claude spoke. “Pick up another one, Dimitri.” Dimitri dropped the useless pieces of wood and gathered another lance from the stack. This time, he braced himself properly, and when he nodded, Claude came at him again. Once more, Claude flew at him straight on and Dimitri moved to block him, but at the last second Claude changed course, ducking down and hooking the curve of his wooden axe around the back of Dimitri’s knee, yanking it out from under him and causing Dimitri to fall flat on his back.

“Come on, Dimitri!” Claude shouted at him, backing off once again as Dimitri growled and got to his feet. He prepared himself once more and again Claude charged. He feinted right but Dimitri felt his battle instincts kick in. He watched Claude’s eyes, not the course of the axe, and managed to read the feint. Claude intended to use Dimitri’s blind spot against him but Dimitri had already learned how to cope without an eye. He managed to block properly this time and Claude grinned ruefully.

“You fight dirty, Claude,” Dimitri scolded him, pushing forward with his arms to pitch Claude back a few steps. Claude winked at him.

“Hey, any advantage I can get,” he said, taking up a fighter’s stance. “Now, come on, Dimitri. Let me show you that I can defend myself,” he insisted. Dimitri swallowed down the knot in his throat and nodded. He took a deep breath.

“I’m going to come at you on your left,” he reported before he shifted his weight forward and took a jab. Claude easily sidestepped, practically dancing out of Dimitri’s reach.

“Aw, Dima, don’t be like that. Come on, my assassins never had the courtesy to tell me when and where I was going to be attacked,” he said. Assassins – right. Claude had been fighting his own battles since he was a mere tyke. People had long been trying to claim his life and Dimitri could only imagine how scared that must have made a little Khalid. But Claude was facing Dimitri down on even footing, now, and as Dimitri looked up into his face, he saw no fear.

So, he nodded. Then he let out a roar of his own and charged at Claude.

Claude was more than ready for him. He parried Dimitri’s initial thrust, and when Dimitri came at him again with a backswing, his axe caught Dimitri right in the wrist. Dimitri heard something snap and it wasn’t the lance this time, though his weapon did immediately go flying out of his hand and across the yard. Dimitri let out a quiet hiss and drew his wrist to his chest, inspecting the bruise that had already started to form. He looked up at Claude and there wasn’t an ounce of remorse in his green eyes.

“I told you,” he said, and Dimitri nodded. He had _clearly_ underestimated Claude. And if it had taken Claude cracking his wrist to get it through Dimitri’s thick skull that he _wasn’t_ helpless, then Dimitri supposed that was fair.

“Are you all right?” came Marianne’s light voice as she trotted over to join the boys on the grounds proper. “That was a nasty hit, Claude!” she scolded, her eyes going wide as she saw the purpling of Dimitri’s wrist. “You should have been more gentle!”

“He didn’t need me to be gentle with him,” Claude returned, and Dimitri nodded in fierce agreement. Claude was right. He had needed to see this. Besides, the break wasn’t bad. Marianne wrapped her hands gently around Dimitri’s wrist and she soon had the pain ebbed away to nothing at all.

“Okay, Dimitri, it’s mended,” she said. “But you should still take it easy for the rest of the day. No more sparring like that,” she insisted, and Dimitri nodded as his eyes went back to Claude.

“…I think I’ve seen everything I need to, for today,” he agreed, and Claude grinned back at him. Slowly, Dimitri felt a small smile work up the corners of his own lips. They’d sparred, and Claude had come out the unscathed victor. If they did this again, maybe Dimitri would be braver. Yes, he resolved. Next time he would make Claude work for a win over him.

For now, though, Claude was stretching his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders and loosening himself up. “I think I’m about done with target practice, anyway,” he said. He flashed Dimitri another winning smile, the sort that made Dimitri’s stomach flip whenever he saw it. “But since we’re both still decked out in training gear, why don’t you join me on a walk to the stables?” he suggested, and Dimitri’s eyes brightened as Claude continued with a wink. “Maybe we could even go on a ride together. It’s a nice, clear day,” he said. Dimitri nodded in delight.

“Yes,” he agreed immediately. “I’d love to go horseback riding with you, Claude,” he said. Behind him, he heard Marianne give a small giggle, and he wondered what that was about. Glancing towards her, she waved him away quickly.

“Nothing. Have fun, you two. And, um, good luck, Dimitri,” she said, which made Dimitri quirk his brow. Good luck? He had been riding horses since he was a child! But she had already started on her own way before he could come up with a fitting retort to her words, instead leaving him to just cross his arms and huff after her. Claude reached out and laid an arm on his bicep.

“Come on, Dima,” he said. “The guards will clean up the training yard behind us. Let me show you the way,” he insisted. Dimitri was ordinarily the sort to clean up his own messes, especially on days like these, when he’d broken things. But Claude’s fingers caught his and were quite successful in coaxing him away. Soon enough, Dimitri could smell the familiar scent of horses and he smiled. They walked past a row of stables with great, fluffy-maned steeds staring out at them, whickering gently. He wondered if Claude’s must be all the way at the end when they kept walking, but as they reached the end of the row and Claude kept pulling him along, Dimitri’s brow furrowed.

“Claude?” he questioned. “We’ve… passed the horses?” Claude looked over his shoulder and beamed.

“Oh, Dima,” he tutted. “I know.” Dimitri wasn’t left in confusion for much longer as he found they were now approaching a tall, tower-like structure. There was a staircase that spiraled up the outside, and on every floor was a large arched opening reminiscent of a stone cave. Claude pursed his lips and let out a low whistle, and Dimitri’s heart dropped into his stomach as he saw two scaly heads poke out one of the arches.

Oh… of course. Claude was beaming up at Dimitri as the pair of wyvern siblings threw themselves out of the opening and came gliding down towards them. One looked like any other wyvern that Dimitri had seen, with dark scales, sharp teeth, and powerful wings. If hard-pressed, he might have said the dark wyvern was a bit sleeker than the Fodlan variant, but it was the other that held his attention. It had beautiful pearlescent scales and deep red eyes. It flew with a grace that Dimitri had never seen before – as large and powerful as they were, Dimitri’d always thought wyverns seemed clumsy in the skies next to pegasai. But this white wyvern was _gorgeous_.

“Sarbi. Jamshid,” Claude introduced them, pointing to the pair in turn. “Dimitri, meet my brother and my sister,” he said, and Dimitri offered a weak wave with his free hand.

“H…hello?” he tried, completely unsure what the protocol was, here. Claude laughed and clicked his tongue a couple times and the wyverns approached. Dimitri stumbled back and fell flat on his arse as the pair immediately came at him, tongues flicking snake-like out of their mouths. Claude held firmly to Dimitri’s hand and knelt beside him with a laugh.

“Relax. They’re just getting the smell of you,” he said. “They won’t hurt you, they can see that you’re with me,” he said. As if to prove this very point, the white wyvern, Jamshid, lowered her head to where Claude and Dimitri’s fingers were joined, tasting the air around their linked hands. Claude used his hold on Dimitri’s hand to bring his fingers closer to the wyvern’s muzzle, but Dimitri resisted him. Again, Claude laughed. “Dima, I didn’t know you were frightened of wyverns!” he teased, and Dimitri shook his head.

“I… wouldn’t call it fear,” he said, even though he could feel his heart racing. He wondered if Jamshid and Sarbi could hear it. “More of… a healthy respect,” he said, and Claude nodded his approval.

“Well, that’s a good thing. You should respect them. You have to,” he said. “But these two are mine. They would never hurt you,” he insisted. Dimitri nodded, figuring he had to trust Claude on this. The two great beasts were plenty intimidating after all, and Dimitri had never been this close to one except at the wrong end of its bite. He was well aware that these wyverns could inflict a lot of damage, the dark one was likely the very same that had carried Claude into battle the last time Dimitri’d seen him upon the back of one. They were fearsome beasts. And yet, seeing them up close like this, sniffing at him and blinking their big, round eyes in curiosity, Dimitri might have even dared to think that they were a bit cute. He imagined them as hatchlings with a young Khalid sleeping between them. He wished he had seen it in person, then, and didn’t just have to imagine it. The picture in his head was _adorable_.

“…when you said you wanted to go riding with me, did you mean that you wanted to take me _flying_?” Dimitri asked, finally allowing Claude to tug his hand up to stroke Jamshid’s horns and the tough scales around the crest of her head. Dimitri couldn’t really feel her, other than the fact that she was a little colder than he expected. If he recalled his lessons correctly, wyverns regulated their body temperature with the sunlight. She’d been curled up in the shade just a minute ago, so it made sense that she wasn’t warm. Claude was grinning at him as he watched the pair interact.

“I was hoping so, yes,” Claude affirmed, and Dimitri grunted softly.

“I’ve never been,” he warned, but it seemed like Claude already knew that. He squeezed Dimitri’s fingers again to reassure him. Dimitri felt reassured.

“I thought as much,” he said. “But I expect you’ll do just fine. Jamshid’s a steady flier; she’ll be perfect for your first time.” Dimitri nodded, remembering the grace he’d observed the white wyvern flying with. Being upon her back didn’t seem nearly as intimidating compared to some of the wild rides he’d seen his classmates take with the unruly wyverns at the Monastery. Seeing Hilda get pitched from twenty feet up had _really_ discouraged Dimitri from ever trying himself. Being thrown from a horse was painful enough. He couldn’t imagine adding even _more_ height to that equation.

“Have you ever been thrown?” he had to ask, turning to Claude. He shrugged in reply.

“Yes,” Claude said. “But not by these two. I often wondered what Rhea was thinking with those wyverns at the Academy. Most of them were just plain ornery. But Seteth saw my skill in riding and decided that I was good enough to handle a beast there they called Mad-Eye, and I took it as a challenge. That wyvern was an old bastard,” he said. “But it wasn’t really his fault. I discovered he had a back injury that got aggravated whenever someone tried to saddle him. He got a reputation for being aggressive, but he was just an old guy. Still, I had one flight on him before I realized what was going on. Certainly you remember that hole that they had to rush to fix in the roof of the greenhouse?” he asked with a small laugh, and Dimitri’s eye widened.

“So _that_ was what happened,” he muttered. Rumors had abounded about that accident and ‘Claude was thrown through the roof’ had only been one of a handful of plausible stories among many others that were far more ridiculous. Dimitri hadn’t known what to believe, but now he was hearing the truth of it. He chuckled softly, only to freeze as he looked up and realized his hand had somehow gotten inside Jamshid’s _mouth_ without him noticing it. He looked to Claude in a panic, but Claude was quick to laugh and calm him down.

“She’s just getting your scent,” he said. He removed his own gauntlet and demonstrated by holding up his wrist towards Sarbi, who set to licking it a few times. “Pulse points are one of the easiest places for them to smell you, and they smell with their tongue. Trust me, this is an act of affection,” he said. Dimitri nodded, firming his resolve and letting Jamshid become acquainted with him. She eventually released his hand from her clutches, and when she did, Claude stood up and offered both of his hands to Dimitri to aid him in standing. “I think she’ll let you fly with her, now,” he said. “All the gear’s on the lowest level of the tower. Let me get them saddled and then I’ll get you in the harness and we’ll go flying, how about that? You’ll hardly have to do anything,” he promised. “I’ll guide Sarbi and Jamshid will follow me. All you have to do is enjoy the view,” he said.

“And hold on for dear life,” Dimitri murmured, but Claude laughed again.

“No, no, the harness will hold you in. Jamshid will be gentle with you. Just look at her eyes! She loves you already,” he assured. Dimitri looked up into the wyvern’s ruby eyes at Claude’s behest. He wasn’t exactly skilled at reading the facial expressions of wyverns, though. Maybe she was looking at him with affection. Maybe she was looking at him like he was her next meal. Dimitri really couldn’t tell so he was just going to have to trust Claude on this one.

“All right,” he said. Claude squeezed his hands.

“You just wait right here. I’ll have us ready to go in less than ten minutes,” he promised. With that, he rushed off towards the tower and Dimitri very abruptly realized that Claude had left him completely alone with his wyverns. The pair was still staring at him curiously, tongues flicking every now and again. He thought, for some reason, he should try and explain who he was and why he was with Claude, but how was he supposed to know if they could understand him? The beasts looked more intelligent than horses did, but a realization came to Dimitri. Claude said that these wyverns had been a gift from his father, which meant… if they did understand human speech, they probably only understood Almyran. This was confirmed for him when he heard Claude shout something from the door of the tower in that language that Dimitri couldn’t yet understand and he saw Sarbi toss his head before responding by running straight for Claude to get saddled. The beasts understood Almyran, then. He could only imagine it must have been confusing for them to come to a land where no one spoke it around them but Claude.

Looking up at Jamshid, Dimitri felt the slightest bit sad for her. She, especially, stood out as different among Fodlan’s usual wyverns. An outsider, just like Claude was. Dimitri only knew how to say one thing in Almyran, but, he thought, if Claude was as close with these wyverns as he seemed to be, they’d probably heard it before. Hoping that she’d understand, Dimitri worked his mouth around the phrase that Claude had taught him just last night.

“ _Duset daram_ ,” he said to her, and all of the sudden he was flat on his back with Jamshid’s large chest against his and she was licking his face. Dimitri laughed – it tickled – and he managed to get his hands against her ribs. He felt his Crest manifest on both of his arms as he lifted Jamshid up and off of him, to which the wyvern seemed to respond with delight. She let out a noise that Dimitri could only liken to a squeal and beat her wings in the air. She craned her neck downwards and nipped at his hair and Dimitri held her up and Claude came running over towards them both, laughing.

“What did you _say_ to her?” he asked, clicking his tongue and making chirring noises until Jamshid relented and got off of Dimitri. “She only wrestles like that with me and Sarbi!” he said, sounding amazed. Dimitri sat up with a bright grin.

“I… I said ‘ _Duset daram’,_ ” he explained, and Claude’s smile was as radiant as sunlight. No, Dimitri caught himself. Looking into his partner’s eyes, he could tell he was looking at Khalid, just then.

“That would do it,” Khalid said with a little blush as he tucked his head. It was so _rare_ to see his partner blushing and bashful that Dimitri couldn’t help but bask in it for a moment. He stood and picked Khalid up so that he could kiss him. He felt Khalid laughing against his lips and swinging his feet playfully in the air as Dimitri held him there. Eventually, though, he drew back, and Dimitri felt himself looking at Claude again as he spoke.

“You keep distracting me like this, and we’ll never get in the sky,” Claude said. “I want to show you what it’s like up there. Just give me a few more minutes, Dima,” he petitioned, and Dimitri chuckled as he sat Claude back on his feet.

“All right, go on. I’ll wait,” he said. Claude went back towards the tower and Jamshid followed him this time, seeming to sense it was her turn to get geared up. When Claude finally came back over to Dimitri, he looked all ready to go with a leather harness strapped over his shoulders and around his waist, a few clips hanging loose from the belt that would hold him to Sarbi’s saddle. He was carrying another in his arms over for Dimitri, and Dimitri leaned down so that Claude could slide it over his head and get all the straps adjusted for him. Dimitri noticed that Claude checked the tightness of it the same way Dimitri always checked his horse’s saddle. Claude made sure he could slip at least two fingers between the harness and Dimitri’s body wherever they made contact, ensuring that it was tight, but not too tight. He’d done the same with Sarbi and Jamshid’s saddles, and Dimitri smiled a bit. They did this with wyverns and horses because they didn’t have words to use to express if a strap was too tight somewhere. Claude was doing it with him, Dimitri knew, because Dimitri wouldn’t be able to feel the difference if it _was_ too tight. Even in just the smallest ways, Claude let on to Dimitri that he cared so, so much.

“Okay,” Claude finally spoke. “You’re all set. Now we just need to get you into the saddle,” he said, and Dimitri nodded.

“Is there a proper way to do it?” he asked, and Claude nodded.

“Of course. I’ll show you how,” he said. He walked over towards Sarbi and the wyvern got low to the ground, spreading out his wings flat to give Claude the best access to his back. “Okay, watch me, Dima,” Claude said. “You see here?” he questioned, tapping Sarbi’s neck a few inches up from the wyvern’s shoulderblades. “What you want to do is swing your leg over their neck. Not what you’d expect, I’m sure, but wyverns have a lot of muscle right around here where their wings connect to their bodies. You won’t hurt them by just hopping up,” he said. “Watch. When I get on, Sarbi will lift his head, and I’ll slide backwards into the saddle. You want your knees to rest on the saddle horns in front of their wings, here,” he said, indicating with another tap. “And once you’ve got yourself situated there, you clip in. There’s a clip on either side of the saddle and one in the back. The two on the side will hang a bit loose to give you the ability to shift your weight so you can steer. But the one in the back should be secure,” he said. “Now, watch me.”

Dimitri watched, paying very close attention. Claude made it look easy. He straddled Sarbi’s neck, Sarbi lifted his head and Claude caught himself with his knees. Clip, clip, clip, and he was in. He smiled over towards Dimitri and motioned towards Jamshid in a way that indicated ‘your turn.’

Dimitri took a deep breath as he approached the wyvern. At least he didn’t find her scary, but Jamshid was still plenty intimidating from this close. He did as Claude had done, slinging his leg over her neck. Jamshid lifted her head much faster than Dimitri expected, though, and instead of catching himself with his knees he just went slipping right down her back to hit the ground. Claude laughed brightly, and Dimitri could _swear_ that the wyverns were laughing, too, as he got back up.

“Try again, Dima, you can do it. That happens to almost everyone,” Claude assured him. He looked to his wyvern, then. “ _Jamshid, aan bar kendtr. Ba aw aram bashad,_ ” he said, holding his hand flat and then inclining it upwards slowly. Dimitri brushed himself off and Jamshid lowered her head again as he approached. He got back up onto her neck and she moved much, much more slowly this time. Dimitri held on with his legs as he fumbled with the clips, but after only a couple moments of struggling, he got himself strapped in. The wide belt around his middle and the secured ring at his back supported him well, and he no longer felt in danger of falling. He sat up and smiled over at Claude as he stroked Jamshid’s neck.

“I did it,” he announced, and Claude nodded.

“You did it,” he affirmed. “Now, for the best part,” he said, and Dimitri didn’t like the slight manic spark he spotted in Claude’s eyes. “You see the reins there in front of you? You’re going to want to hold onto those and lay low against her back,” he said. He gave Dimitri a second to reach out and get in position before he tapped his heel against Sarbi’s side.

“ _Awj gurftn_ ,” he commanded in a clear, strong tone. Dimitri had just a second to watch as Sarbi lifted his head and his wings and leaped skyward. Then, Dimitri was holding on tightly as Jamshid did the exact same, rocketing upwards after them. He shouted in shock and delight and he heard Khalid laughing with him, letting out a whoop of his own in response to Dimitri’s yells. They were skyborne.


	20. Flight

Dimitri was beautiful on the back of his white wyvern with the wind whipping his face and blowing back his long hair, Claude thought. He was beautiful all the time, but up in the skies with him over the endless blue water below, he looked so happy and so _free_ that it was, hands down, the most beautiful sight Claude thought he had ever seen.

He would admit that he had been a bit nervous about suggesting an outing like this. Dimitri had barely been out of his own bedroom before yesterday. But this morning he’d asked to come to the training yard and it was the first time Dimitri’d been _outside_ in forever and Claude hadn’t wanted to just pull him back indoors for lunch. Even before confining himself to the safety of Claude’s manor, Dimitri had been trapped in the dark, underground without a breath of fresh air. He had a window here in Derdriu but Claude knew that nothing would have been able to compare to this. Dimitri was healing. He was happy and without pain, but Claude wanted him to feel _free_ again. The war was over and done, and Dimitri’s ghosts were being put to rest. Claude wanted him to be _free_.

Jamshid was doing a great job in helping with that endeavor. Of the two of them, Claude knew that Jamshid was far more protective over him than Sarbi was. Part of it was just the fact that female wyverns had more of a protective instinct than males, but the other was that she had been hatched first. She saw both him and Sarbi as her little brothers and she’d die before she allowed something bad to happen to either of them. He had been a bit nervous about proposing that Dimitri ride her, but he knew that her flight pattern was smoother than Sarbi’s. She would be great for a beginner like the prince was, and he had been so relieved when he’d seen that Jamshid seemed to take to Dimitri right away. He smiled to himself knowing that it was likely because they’d shared a bed last night. Dimitri smelled like Khalid, and Khalid smelled like Dimitri. In a wyvern’s mind, that was plenty enough to make Dimitri a new nest-mate. Khalid had already claimed him, so why shouldn’t Sarbi and Jamshid do the same? Even though they’d only ever been ridden by Claude before, Jamshid had accepted Dimitri up onto her back which was nothing short of a miracle. Claude was proud of her. As they flew along, Claude whispered praises that would carry back over the wind to her ears. She was doing such a fantastic job.

They got about a mile out to sea before Claude indicated to Sarbi that this was far enough, and both of the wyverns dropped speed to a low gliding pattern within the ocean’s updrafts. The winds were not as powerful here as they were in the skies over the Almyran ocean, where it could get twice as hot as it was out here in the Alliance, but that was a good thing. It meant that it was quiet enough for him and Dimitri to hold a conversation as they glided in large, lazy circles above the sea.

“How are you holding up, over there?” Claude called with a smile on his face. Dimitri was windswept and smiling, holding his hair back from his face with one hand as he peered over Jamshid’s wings to the ocean below.

“This is amazing!” he responded, and Claude beamed. He followed Dimitri’s gaze below, able to catch the dark patches where fish schooled in large groups below them. Boats dotted the waves here and there, as well, but there would have been many more upon the water had they come out earlier in the day. Claude was no fisherman, but he’d been told the best catches were always made in the morning. The waters around Derdriu would have been crammed at sunrise. Now, though, the boats just provided little points of interest in the seascape below them. It was a beautiful, clear day. Claude couldn’t have asked for a better moment than this for Dimitri’s first flight.

“You’ve been doing this since you were a child?” Dimitri shouted over to him, and Claude nodded.

“Yes!” he said. “Jamshid was my first flight, too!” Claude saw Dimitri’s expression brighten up at that, and he leaned forward slightly to rub the white wyvern’s neck. Jamshid rumbled a purring noise and glanced back at Dimitri. If wyverns could smile – and Claude was convinced they could – then Jamshid was smiling at Dimitri.

He grunted softly when Sarbi began to buck him a little bit. He hissed at his brother for a moment before he realized what Sarbi wanted. In their gliding, they had slowly gotten closer to the water, and Sarbi had spotted one of the schools of fish that Claude himself was eyeing earlier. He gave a small laugh and reached forward to rub Sarbi’s neck.

“What’s going on?” Dimitri asked, having seen the bumps Claude’s flight suddenly took. Claude shot him a reassuring smile.

“Someone’s hungry!” he responded, and Dimitri looked down once again to the school of fish. Claude could see that Jamshid was watching them, too, but she was better behaved than her brother. Claude looked to her with a smile.

“ _Akea brat maarm_ ,” he told her, and she let out a content rumble, flapping her wings once to indicate that she would stay in the air. Claude glanced to Dimitri and gave him a wink. “We’ll be right back,” he said with a grin, before tucking himself down against Sarbi’s neck. Sarbi was rumbling at him, bobbing a bit in the air as he awaited Claude’s order. Claude patted his neck once more and then held tight to the reins. “ _Sharjh rftn_ ,” he said, and Sarbi plunged with a delighted scream. Claude held his breath and closed his eyes and braced for impact.

Wyverns swam just as well as they flew, their wings working just as well as paddles for their sleek bodies. Sarbi twisted and turned in the water, trusting Claude to hang on tight as he gorged himself on as many fish as he could grab. Claude held his breath as long as he could, and when he yanked upwards on Sarbi’s reins, the wyvern complied at once. He grabbed up one more large fish in his jaws and flew upwards, continuing above Jamshid and Dimitri so that he could drop the fish into his sister’s waiting jaws. They’d done this routine before, though usually Claude didn’t make the plunge – whichever of the siblings he hadn’t been riding would go down and hunt and bring back one for the other so that Claude didn’t have to get wet. Still, this wasn’t the first time Claude had decided to go under with them. He was high on adrenaline, letting out a whoop as Sarbi settled back into flight alongside Jamshid. Claude pushed his dark hair out of his face and shook saltwater from it with a laugh as Dimitri regarded him with an incredulous look.

“I didn’t know wyverns could swim!” was the remark that finally made it to Claude’s ears, and it brought a laugh from deep in his chest.

“They eat fish, of course they swim!” he responded. He felt a little smirk pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Jamshid could demonstrate for you, if you like!” he suggested, but as expected, Dimitri was quickly shaking his head. Yeah, that was a bit too much for a first flight, Claude was in agreement with that. Jamshid, at least, seemed content with the fish that her brother had brought her, and both wyverns were holding up just fine. Claude estimated that they could likely stay in the air for another few hours easily if all they did was glide like this. Wyverns weren’t like pegasai that needed constant breaks. Since they regulated their temperatures externally, it meant they had plenty of reserve energy to burn so long as they stayed well-fed and in warm climates. Sarbi and Jamshid were both in excellent condition. Claude knew, realistically, he could ask them to fly all day, all the way over the eastern mountains to Almyra with just a small nudge of his feet. But… it wasn’t time for that, tempting as it was. Besides, he didn’t want to push them. This flight was mainly just about getting their exercise.

Well, and about the smile on Dimitri’s face, of course. “If I had known flying could be like this, I might have taken it up at the Academy!” he spoke up, but Claude pulled a face and shook his head.

“Nah, I already told you! The wyverns at the Academy were all brats! Not perfect like my beautiful Jamshid and handsome Sarbi,” he said. Even though Claude knew that his wyverns couldn’t understand him when he spoke the language of Fodlan, they still recognized their names. Both of them preened a little just to be addressed in his voice, and Claude smiled with pride. He loved his wyverns. They were the only piece of Almyra he’d been allowed to bring here when his grandfather had all but kidnapped him to Fodlan. Claude’s mother had been _insistent_ that he was at least able to bring the pair with him. She knew that they would both protect her son in the strange western world, and he was eternally grateful to her and to them for looking out for him. Fodlan would have been a lot more frightening without his siblings at his side.

They flew in silence for a while after his quip. Dimitri was back to studying the view with his single eye, looking out as far as he could to where the sea met the sky at the horizon. Claude followed his gaze. Sreng laid in that direction, yet another foreign land that Claude had never seen. The world was such a big place. Claude wanted to change it all for the better.

Minutes whiled away into hours, and before Claude knew it, the sun had started to dip towards the horizon and Dimitri was looking over towards him. “Should we head back?” he asked, and Claude nodded. He clicked his tongue and shifted his weight towards the coast and Sarbi obeyed, Jamshid following right behind them. They were soon landing back in Derdriu and Claude was reversing the process that got him into the saddle so he could slip to the ground and go over to help Dimitri if need be. He had seen how tightly Dimitri had grasped at the reins, and after being aloft for so long in the cooler air, he could only imagine Dimitri’s fingers were stiff. As expected, Dimitri was struggling with the clips that would let him out of the saddle, so Claude climbed up to help him. Sitting on Jamshid’s neck and resting his knees against Dimitri’s, he was able to lean forward and free him in no time at all. He got out of the way so Dimitri could dismount, smiling as the man immediately went to stroking Jamshid’s neck and thanking her for the wonderful time.

“ _Duset daram_ ,” Claude heard him say, and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as Jamshid trilled and groomed Dimitri’s hair with the gentlest of nibbles. Dimitri chuckled and held still for her, letting her keep it up until Claude had finished removing Sarbi’s gear and came over to do the same for Jamshid. Once they were both out of their saddles, Claude offered them his wrists to scent before they flew back up to their cave. Sarbi licked him, but Jamshid had always been a nibbler. She delicately held Claude’s hand in her teeth until she was satisfied with the farewell, and then she and Sarbi were flying back up to rest.

“They’re amazing,” Dimitri said, coming up behind Claude to enfold him in his arms. Claude smiled and pulled Dimitri’s borrowed cloak around his shoulders like an oversized blanket to wrap around him. Dimitri chuckled as Claude practically disappeared into the furs, leaning against his chest. Claude would never let anyone else hold him like this, ever, he resolved. He knew he would only feel this safe with Dimitri. Even though he knew that the arms wrapped around him had the strength to break him in half, he knew they never would. These arms loved and protected him. He was safe with Dimitri.

“What are you doing in there?” Dimitri asked him softly, looking down at Claude, all bundled in the borrowed furs. Claude felt a tiny giggle – a giggle! – escape him.

“I’m being protected,” he responded, and Dimitri’s expression went soft and his grip tightened just a little bit.

“Always,” he pledged. Claude felt his heart beat double and he stood on his toes and arched backwards to try and kiss Dimitri. The angle he’d chosen meant he was only able to get to Dimitri’s chin, but that was good enough for Claude. It sent the message well enough if the way Dimitri started blushing was any tell.

“Will you blush every time I kiss you?” he teased, secretly hoping that the answer was yes. He knew he would never tire of kissing Dimitri if he got this beautiful reaction from him every time. Dimitri only hummed in reply which definitely got Claude’s hopes up. He went tiptoe to kiss him again, but Dimitri’s hands were at his waist then, turning him about and lifting him with ease so that their lips would meet this time. Claude never imagined he would enjoy being a head shorter than his partner this much, but it delighted him every time Dimitri lifted him like this. He would never tire of kissing Dimitri.

After a prolonged kiss, followed by a few more fleeting pecks, Claude found himself slowly lowered back to the earth. His hands still rested on Dimitri’s shoulders as a soft hum left him. “I’ll need to put the harnesses away,” he said, shifting his hands so he could start loosening the straps on Dimitri’s. “Then, what do you think about heading inside for dinner? It’ll be about time for your next dose by the time we walk back,” he pointed out, and Dimitri nodded.

“I am hungry,” he agreed. “It would appear that flying made me work up an appetite,” he added, and Claude grinned.

“I know, it’s an adrenaline rush, isn’t it?” he asked. “Especially for a first-timer.” Dimitri nodded. Claude lifted the flying harness off of Dimitri’s shoulders and turned towards the tower. “Hopefully the kitchen’s fixed something good and filling, then. We’ll have to see when we get to the manor.” He turned and quickly headed back into the tower to stash all the gear into its proper place and swiftly rejoined Dimitri. The prince was waiting for him, and held out his hand as Claude neared. Claude eagerly slipped his hand into Dimitri’s larger one and gave his fingers a soft squeeze.

“Just follow me, Dima,” Claude said, leading the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of things to say here at the end of this chapter... one, that there is only one more after this! Next chapter is the last chapter of this gigantic fic. :) I want to thank everyone who's read this and especially those of you that have been commenting, as well. It's really encouraging for someone who hasn't posted anything in 5 years.
> 
> Second thing to say is that I don't plan to stop uploading after this is done, either! I already am brainstorming on a couple one-shot ideas for things to happen in Almyra, and while I really doubt anything I write for the next little while will be on the scale of this fic, I hope anyone who does stumble across stuff I post after this will enjoy it just as much!
> 
> See you guys in the next chapter: the final one!


	21. Together (Forever)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking place three months after the last chapter...

The unification of Fodlan was official, and it seemed like the entire world was gathering to celebrate at Garreg Mach Monastery. It was just as big as what Dimitri imagined the millennium festival would have been, had there not been a war to stop people from gathering here on that day. But today, the weather was clear and the atmosphere was light and Claude was at his side. Conditions could not have been better for the grand ball hosted here tonight. Dimitri reached up to adjust one of the clasps of his cape with a white-gloved hand as he and his partner trekked up the path towards the Monastery. Dimitri’s usual color was blue. Indeed, the shirt he wore was his color, and the white of his gloves and trousers offset the dark color well. But the cape he had clasped to his shoulders matched his partner. Bright yellow. He wore his hair back from his face in a loose ponytail with only a few strands falling free to frame his cheeks. Tonight was going to be a big night, after all. Dimitri needed to look his best. It was a _very_ big night. As they approached the large gate, Dimitri felt the pressure around his fingers increase, and he looked down to see Claude squeezing his hand.

No, not Claude, Dimitri corrected himself. The man at his side was in Almyran dress, wearing bolts of colorful green and yellow cloth wrapped around him to make up a long tunic over beige trousers that looked out of place in Fodlan, but would have been perfect in the deserts across the mountains. He wore gladiator sandals, had a wrap around his forehead, and his hair was braided here and there, like it had been back in their Academy days. The person at Dimitri’s side was assuredly Khalid, tonight. And tonight he planned on announcing to the entire world his true identity.

Dimitri knew that he was nervous. His partner had long harbored fears of rejection and abuse for his mixed blood and as much as he tried to brush those worries away with Claude, Dimitri _knew_ that he was nervous. He was squeezing Dimitri’s fingers so tightly. If they were going to change the world, then they had to start somewhere, and revealing Claude’s true identity was the step that they’d chosen for tonight. Dimitri could imagine that it was terrifying for someone who had always kept their secrets so close to their chest. But Khalid wouldn’t be alone in this. Dimitri was with him.

Dimitri leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Khalid’s temple, shushing him gently. In the three months that had followed their revelation of love towards one another, they’d only gotten closer. Dimitri had gotten better at reading his partner’s mood and Khalid had stopped hiding so much from him. The anxiety on the Prince of Almyra’s face was as plain as day to Dimitri, and he paused in their walk up the hill to the monastery so that he could take the time to provide the reassurance Khalid needed.

“Khalid,” he said softly – his Almyran accent had improved. “I am here. I would never let anything happen to you,” Dimitri promised. Khalid’s green eyes peeked up at Dimitri from under his head scarf and he nodded.

“I know,” he said, taking a deep breath. Dimitri could see him working to steady his nerves. “I know that, Dima. But thank you.” When Khalid still seemed to hesitate, Dimitri ducked his head and speckled kisses over Khalid’s cheek and jaw until he started to fidget and laugh. “Okay, okay, Dima, _enough_ ,” he stressed, and Dimitri pulled away. Khalid was smiling, now. So he’d been successful. Taking a deep breath, Khalid looked up the path towards the doors of Garreg Mach. He squeezed Dimitri’s fingers and nodded once, firmly. Dimitri took the message. Khalid was ready.

They strolled up the steps to the front gates where the guard on duty addressed them with a chipper “Greetings!” Dimitri had to do a double take at the man, but yes – it was the same Gatekeeper as always. Despite all that had happened in the world… it seemed some things never changed. Dimitri inclined his head in greeting to the man as he checked them off the guest list. “It is good to see the both of you again, welcome back!” he said. “How would you like to be announced? Claude von Riegan and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd? Leader Claude and Prince Dimitri?” he asked. Khalid took a deep breath.

“It’s… Khalid, actually,” he said. “Khalid of Almyra.”

The Gatekeeper looked up, surprise on his features. “Well… okay, I can do that! Kahleed… Khahleeeeed…” he tried, and just as Khalid was starting to wince at the attempts, a voice interrupted the Gatekeeper from behind them.

“What’s that you’re trying to say, Gatekeeper?” came the voice of Seteth. Dimitri turned to see both he and Flayn approaching the doors behind them, both dressed in their best for the night. The Gatekeeper saluted the pair of them and quickly explained.

“His name, sir!” he said. “So I can announce them properly! Kah-leeed,” he tried again, and Dimitri chuckled softly.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he murmured, and Khalid glanced up at him with a small smile. Seteth hummed.

“Khalid,” he repeated for himself, and Dimitri saw his partner perk up a bit. “I had not been aware that you were concealing your true identity from us, Claude,” Seteth said, and Khalid smiled slightly.

“You’re one to talk, Cichol,” he responded, and Dimitri watched Seteth’s face fill with color. The man cleared his throat sharply and turned back to the Gatekeeper.

“You’ll need not stress yourself over pronunciation, Gatekeeper. I’ll make the announcement for these two,” Seteth said, and the Gatekeeper looked relieved as he nodded. He let them past the doors and as they made their way through the entrance hall towards the ballroom, Seteth looked at Khalid from the corner of his eyes. “Khalid of Almyra…” he repeated, bringing a hand to his chin in thought. “If I am not mistaken, Khalid is the name of Almyra’s Crown Prince,” he said. “A boy who has apparently been missing for the past seven years, having disappeared mysteriously when he was sixteen years old…” he murmured, and Khalid dipped his head slightly. He was flushed, and Dimitri gave his fingers the tiniest squeeze to bolster his courage.

“…yes,” he told Seteth. “You are not mistaken about that.” Seteth’s expression softened and he reached over to place his hand lightly on Khalid’s shoulder.

“Shall I announce you with your title?” he asked, and Khalid did the brave thing and nodded. Dimitri squeezed his fingers again – he was so proud of him. Seteth’s green eyes then moved over to Dimitri. “And you, Prince Dimitri? How would you like to be announced?” he asked.

“No title,” Dimitri said. “Faerghus is no longer in need of a king, so it is no longer in need of a prince,” he said. He felt Khalid squeezing his fingers, now. Dimitri squared his shoulders. “Just my name will be fine, thank you, Seteth,” he said. Seteth gave them one more nod as they ascended the steps towards the ballroom. The armored guards standing nearby pulled the double doors open for them and eyes turned their way as the attendees who had already arrived turned to look at who was coming in. Seteth’s voice boomed over the gathering.

“Crown Prince Khalid of Almyra! Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd!” he announced, and there was a moment of stunned silence in the ballroom. From the corner of his eye, Dimitri saw Khalid start to shake. But just when he feared that his love would turn and bolt like a frightened deer, Flayn started clapping from behind them, and the rest of the ballroom quickly followed suit. Dimitri looked around and saw that the faces aimed in their direction were smiling and he felt relief course through him.

Of course, no one was more relieved than Khalid, who suddenly leapt at Dimitri, flinging his arms around him for a hug. Dimitri let out an ‘oof’ of surprise as he caught Khalid against his chest, smiling as his partner tucked his face in under Dimitri’s chin. “You did it,” Dimitri whispered softly to his prince. “You did it.”

They moved out of the doorway, then, to make room for Seteth and Flayn to come in behind them. As the siblings were announced, chatter began to fill the ballroom again. Dimitri led Khalid over to the servers at the side so that the prince would be able to have something to drink to steady his nerves, but just as they were making their way over there, a voice called them from behind.

“Claude!” it said, and Khalid turned. When he saw Cyril was the one rushing towards him, a goblet of wine in each hand, he smiled. Khalid accepted the drinks from Cyril and passed one to Dimitri, who took a long sip from it as Cyril fidgeted and stared at Khalid.

“ _Shma ahl Almyra hstad_?” the younger man finally managed to say. “ _Waq'eaan_?” Dimitri was proud to say that he understood some of that. Cyril was asking if Khalid was really from Almyra. Khalid smiled and nodded.

“ _Arh_ ,” Khalid replied. “ _Mn hstm._ _Mn Shahzadh Khalid hstm,_ ” he affirmed, and Cyril shook his head with a small, disbelieving laugh.

“I’ve been working with you nobles for a long time,” he spoke, switching back to Fodlani so that Dimitri would be able to follow. “But never would have guessed something like this. Makes a lot of what you said to me back when you were a student make a lot more sense,” he said, and Khalid smiled.

“It was hardest to hide from you,” Khalid said, and Cyril crossed his arms.

“Nah, I thought you were just another weird noble. Your eyes don’t match up,” he commented, and Khalid nodded.

“I am… von Riegan, too,” he explained. “My mother is Fodlani. My eyes are hers,” he explained, and Cyril hummed.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he said. “But… you’re going by Khalid, now?” he asked. “Does that mean…”

“Yes,” Khalid answered. Dimitri saw his smile reach his eyes. “I’m going to go back.”

“And you’ll be King, then,” Cyril said. After a moment to think about it, he smiled and nodded his approval. “Almyra’s been in chaos without a King. That’s part of why my childhood there was the way it was. Without a leader to unify them, the warlords have been running wild. They need someone to lead them. I think you’ll be good for it,” he said, and Khalid smiled. He tipped his head forward and bowed to Cyril, who looked entirely flustered by the gesture. “Aw, come on, you don’t have to do that…” he protested, but as Khalid straightened up, he shook his head.

“I do,” Khalid insisted. “You’re only the second Almyran to think I’m fit for the job,” he confessed. “So… thank you. It means more than you know.”

“Aw…” Cyril said, shaking his head. “You’ll show everybody, I know that much. Maybe with someone like you wearing the crown, I’ll be happy to call myself Almyran, again,” he said. Khalid beamed at that, and when Cyril reached forward his hand, Khalid accepted it happily to clasp it in his own. They shook hands, and Dimitri smiled behind the rim of his goblet. This was going well so far. From the look on Khalid’s face, Dimitri could tell that it was going far better than his partner had expected.

“I’ve gotta run for now,” Cyril said as he released Khalid’s hand. “I’m helping the kitchen staff get stuff loaded up on trays to bring up here, plus keeping track of how much wine we’re going through. I’m going to have to make another trip to the cellar real soon…” he said, and Khalid waved him away.

“Don’t worry about it, don’t let me keep you. I know you’re always busy… so, thank you so much for coming to say something, and for the drinks, too,” he said. Cyril nodded.

“Yeah, of course. It’s… good to meet you, Prince Khalid,” he said. Then, Dimitri watched as Cyril did something incredible. He gave the smallest dip of his head to Khalid, a gesture which had previously been reserved only for Lady Rhea. Dimitri saw Khalid’s entire expression brighten and he bowed in response once again. With that, Cyril was off, leaving Dimitri and Khalid alone like an island in a small sea of people. Khalid raised his goblet to his lips and took another long drink and Dimitri wrapped his arm around his love’s shoulders to hold and reassure him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, and Khalid nodded as he leaned fully into Dimitri’s side. He reached around to pull Dimitri’s yellow cloak about his own shoulders and Dimitri chuckled but allowed Khalid to take the comfort. If Khalid felt the need to hide in his cape for protection, then Dimitri would let it happen. It was a vastly different side to show to everyone around them who had come to know Claude – the social butterfly, the crafty man with the silver tongue… hiding in his partner’s cape. But Dimitri knew that there was a distinction between Claude and Khalid. Claude had always projected independence and confidence when Dimitri knew that Khalid just wanted to be held. And tonight… his love was Khalid. Dimitri leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Khalid’s head. “You are safe,” he promised him quietly. “I am here. _Duset daram,_ ” he murmured, and Khalid nodded.

“I always knew that I wouldn’t be able to hide forever,” he responded in a voice so soft only Dimitri could hear. “But just give me a few more moments of this…” he petitioned, and Dimitri nodded. No doubt there would be people flooding around them at all points of the night with questions that demanded answers. Already Dimitri could see, with his high vantage point over most of the crowd, that Hilda was scoping out the room trying to find them. Dimitri wished that he wasn’t so tall or that his hair wasn’t golden, if only so he didn’t betray Khalid’s position so easily. But as he watched, Hilda seemed to sense his gaze and turned towards them, and they were spotted.

“Hilda’s coming,” Dimitri warned Khalid. He heard his love take a deep breath. Dimitri knew that he had been fearing Hilda’s reaction most of all. She had grown up on the border where Almyran raids were a constant threat, and had learned to hate and fear Khalid’s people from a young age. Dimitri could see Khalid – no, _Claude_ – putting on his battle face, slipping on the mask that had kept him safe in Fodlan all these years. As Hilda approached them like an oncoming thunderstorm, Claude smiled a smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey, Hils-”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Hilda demanded, and she was grabbing Claude in a hug as soon as she was near enough. Claude – no, Dimitri thought. That look of shock and relief was Khalid. Khalid very nearly buckled with surprise at Hilda’s embrace, and he let out a shaky breath. Dimitri put his hand on the small of his partner’s back to steady him, and Khalid closed his eyes tight.

“Oh, I don’t know, Hils… thought you might hate me or something,” he responded, and Hilda shook her head fiercely.

“Claude, that’s a silly thought,” she said. “I could never hate you. Not my dear old Claude,” she insisted. She pulled back from the hug to look him over at arm’s length and smiled. “Wow, real royalty,” she said. “And here I thought Dimitri was the only prince I’d ever meet!” she giggled. Khalid was smiling again and Dimitri felt himself relax. But Hilda’s expression slowly faded from a smile to a pinched frown. “Wait… if you’re a prince… that means… oh, no,” she said. She tugged Khalid back against her again. “Oh, no! You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” she asked, and Khalid sighed.

“I have to go, Hilda,” he said. “Almyra’s been waiting for me to take the throne for ten years. The place has been in chaos without a ruler, I… I _have_ to go,” he said. Hilda was blinking back tears as she held Khalid tight.

“Oh, but I don’t want you to,” she said. Finally, Khalid hugged her back, and Hilda bawled. “Please don’t go!” she said.

“I have to. But, hey, it’s not like I’m leaving tonight, or for forever,” Khalid promised her. “I’ll have to stick around a few more months at least, to dissolve the Riegan estate and make sure the Alliance falls into place as a vassal state of this new Empire of Fodlan. I’m not going to ditch one set of responsibilities for another. And even after that, it’s not like I’m going to be done with Fodlan. If I hope to achieve the peace between our nations that I’ve been dreaming of, I’ll be back and forth all the time working out peace treaties, trade deals, alliances… You live right on the border,” he pointed out. “I’ll see you _all the time_.”

Hilda sniffled, comforted by those words enough that she was able to draw away again and wipe her tears. “You really mean it? You’re not just going to disappear?” she asked, and Khalid shook his head.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Hils. You’re my best friend.” She beamed at those words. “I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye forever.”

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, good. Thank you, Claude,” she said, before her eyes wandered up to Dimitri. He offered her a smile even as her eyes went huge. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me you’re leaving, too?” she asked, and Dimitri chuckled.

“Where he goes, I follow,” he said. Hilda seemed to have been expecting this answer, for, though she pouted, she nodded her understanding.

“Well… okay. I should have known. As in love as the two of you are, nothing can keep you apart, can it?” she asked. Khalid grinned.

“He’s even been learning how to speak Almyran,” he said, and Hilda’s jaw dropped.

“Whaaat?” she asked, looking up to Dimitri. “You _knew_ about this? But you can’t keep a secret to save your life, Dimitri!” she said, and Dimitri chuckled. Unwittingly, he felt his eye pulled in the direction of the Goddess Tower.

“I promised him long ago that his secrets would always be safe with me,” he said. He looked down to Khalid, who was absolutely glowing with the recollection. His partner came close and stood on his toes so that he could reach Dimitri’s cheek for a kiss. The soft brush of his lips made Dimitri blush, and Hilda watched the pair of them with warmth in her eyes.

“Ugh, I can’t stand it. You two are too perfect,” she said. “Please tell me that you plan on dancing together tonight. You’ll look wonderful together.” Dimitri blushed, looking down at Khalid.

“I… only know how to lead,” he said, but Khalid just smiled up at him.

“That’s fine with me. You’ve already promised that you’ll follow me wherever I go. I’m more than happy to follow you, too.” Hilda let out a tiny squeal as Dimitri’s features colored even more.

“Then of course, Khalid,” he said. “Of course we will dance.”

Just as Dimitri got done saying those words, though, he found himself suddenly assaulted from behind. Something – someone, rather – slammed into him, and Dimitri felt all his senses go on high alert before he saw the tiny arms that were clasped around his middle and heard familiar voices behind him.

“Annie, wait! You can’t just _do_ that!” came the voice of Mercedes, and the person against his back laughed.

“I can’t help it, Mercie! I can’t help it!” she said, and Dimitri found himself smiling as he shifted to look over his shoulder and found bright blue eyes peeking up at him joyfully. Annette was embracing him and Mercedes wasn’t far behind, a smile on her own lips as she came over. Alongside her was Ashe, positively beaming, and Dimitri felt his chest grow tight at seeing the three of them. The three that hadn’t been stolen from the world at Gronder. He had missed them more than he realized.

“Dimitri,” Mercedes said, hands pressed tightly together in front of her as though she were holding herself back. “You look well.”

“Get in here, Mercie!” Annette said from where she had still wrapped herself around Dimitri’s middle. “You, too, Ashe!” Mercedes and Ashe paused to glance up at Dimitri’s face first, but Dimitri just offered the pair a soft smile and then he had an armful of them, too.

“I’ve been so worried about you, your Highness!” Ashe said from where he was squeezing Dimitri’s side. “I wanted to write to you, ask how you were, but they made me head of Castle Gaspard and things have been crazy…” he said.

“We’ve all been worried,” Annette chimed. “If you hadn’t shown up tonight, Mercie and I had already made plans to come to Derdriu to see you, it’s been too long…”

“Thinking that you were dead was… was terrible, Dimitri,” Mercedes said. She pulled back from the hug first, looking up into Dimitri’s face with her own eyes shining. “But look at you now!” she said. “Dimitri, you look _happy_ ,” she whispered. She blinked away a few tears. Dimitri gave a little nod, and slowly the other two disentangled themselves from him, as well, so that they could all look at one another.

“I’m… I’m all right,” Dimitri affirmed, and he felt a familiar hand come to his arm. He looked down. Khalid – who else? Khalid was smiling up at him with pride, and the six of them stood there in a small circle. Dimitri, Khalid, Hilda, Annette, Mercedes, Ashe. It took Dimitri a moment, but he found his voice again when Khalid’s hand slipped into his. “How have you all been?” he asked the trio he hadn’t seen in so long. He watched with some surprise as, now, Annette was slipping her hand into Mercedes’ with a little giggle of her own.

“We’re okay, too,” Annette said. “My father still hasn’t decided yet if he wants to come home or not, but I think, eventually, he will. And in the meantime, Mercie and I have been pretty busy…”

“You mean that _you_ have been busy, Annie,” Mercedes corrected. “She’s gotten accepted for a teaching position at the school in Fhirdiad where we once studied,” she said. “I’ve been helping her prepare for classes, they start in only a few weeks, now,” she added, and Annette looked up at Mercedes lovingly.

“You’ve more than helped, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, and Dimitri connected the dots. Annette looked at Mercedes the same way he looked at Khalid. He gripped Khalid’s hand and smiled warmly at the two of them.

“You two are perfect for one another,” he said, and both girls flushed but they were smiling. Mercedes motioned with approval towards where Dimitri’s hand was joined with Khalid’s.

“So are you two,” she said. Dimitri chuckled and dipped his head, which only gave Khalid the chance to stand up on his toes and steal a kiss from his cheek. From the corner of his eye, Dimitri caught Hilda looking absolutely _triumphant_ as Khalid settled back on his heels. If everyone thought that he and Khalid were good together, then Dimitri supposed Hilda deserved to have some of the credit in that. They might have never gotten this far without her pushing, after all.

“And what about you, Ashe?” Dimitri asked. “The new Lord Gaspard, you said?” Ashe nodded.

“Yes,” he affirmed. “It hasn’t been easy, but I’m managing well enough…”

“And Cyril is helping him!” Annette chirped with an impish little smile. Ashe’s face flooded with color.

“Well, yes, of course he is… we’re friends, and… friends help each other,” he said. Dimitri saw it for himself this time, though. He heard Khalid chuckle beside him and saw him shoot a knowing glance up in Dimitri’s direction. Dimitri could read Khalid’s expression. ‘ _Let’s hope it’s more than friends, soon,_ ’ Khalid’s face said, and Dimitri hummed.

“I’m certain Cyril is a good man to have around,” he assured, and Ashe’s blush tamed down a bit as he nodded earnestly. “He knows his way around nobles. I can imagine his help is infinitely useful.”

“It has. He really has been good for me,” Ashe affirmed. Then the doors were opening again, and the group all looked over to see who was coming into the room now.

“Empress Byleth Sothis Fraldarius! Lord Felix Hugo Fraldarius!”

Dimitri looked over the heads of most of the crowd as he heard the Gatekeeper announcing the new arrivals to the ball. The Professor – the _Empress_ , he caught himself – looked resplendent in a white and gold cape with a flowing purple gown. She was smiling as she leaned on her husband’s arm. Felix wore his silver hair away from his face and was wearing white and royal purple to match his wife. Dimitri grinned as he saw that Felix was smiling. It had been many years since he’d seen Felix look that happy.

“Well, seems like I’m not the only one with a name change, tonight,” Khalid murmured at his side. “Byleth Sothis Fraldarius. It has a nice ring to it,” he said, and Dimitri nodded. It was a positive image change for their new Empress, taking on the name of the Goddess in her own name. It was no secret now that Sothis herself was fused with Byleth’s soul, so who could call it blasphemy if she took Sothis’ name as her own? Dimitri lifted his goblet towards the couple and Khalid did the same as those in the ballroom who didn’t have their hands full applauded the Empress’ appearance. As soon as they stepped into the hall, the couple was flooded with those wishing to bend the new royal’s ear with well-wishes and praise for the work she’d done in bringing peace to their continent, and Dimitri heard Khalid chuckle.

“Can’t say I envy them,” he said. Dimitri hummed as he looked down at his partner. He could read the look on Khalid’s face – he was glad that the attention was off of him, Dimitri could tell. He picked up his cape and wrapped it around Khalid’s shoulders and pulled him into his side again, and Khalid purred as he cozied up. “Love you, Dima,” he whispered as Dimitri let him hide from the crowd, and Dimitri smiled. They had socializing to do. But Khalid had been in hiding for a very long time. It was what he was used to; it was what made him feel safe. Dimitri could let him hide for a few more minutes, at least.

So Dimitri kept watch over the crowd as he gave Khalid space to breathe. The others moved off to let them have their moment as Khalid braced himself for the crowd. They had the whole night to catch up, but right now, Khalid and Dimitri both needed a breather. A nameless server came by and refilled their goblets for them and Khalid drank his down quickly. Dimitri clicked his tongue. “You’ll get drunk,” he said, but Khalid shook his head.

“The Crest of Riegan has downsides,” he said, opening his mouth for Dimitri to see how his Crest was glowing faintly on his tongue. “It sees alcohol as a poison – a mild one, mind, but a poison all the same. It burns it out of my system before I can feel any effect at all,” he said. “I’d have to drown myself in an entire keg all at once to get drunk,” he said, and Dimitri hummed.

“Do you need another cup of tea, then?” he asked. Khalid had drunk some of the special brew that the Professor had left behind for him in the carriage ride here. It was supposed to help tame down his partner’s anxiety, but Khalid still looked pretty anxious. All the same, he was shaking his head.

“I’ll be okay,” he said. “I promise. You’re here.” Dimitri couldn’t help but smile at that statement. He tipped his head to once again press a kiss atop Khalid’s hair, and of course it was then when someone else approached them.

“Boar.” Dimitri looked up, smiling to see Felix standing there with his arms crossed. The silver-haired man gave Dimitri an up-and-down look of appraisal before he nodded. “You look good. And you, Riegan,” he said, nodding again to the man bundled in Dimitri’s cloak. “Nice outfit.”

Khalid came out of hiding to incline his head to Felix. “Same to you, Felix,” he said. Dimitri saw him glance over to where there was a crowd still gathered by the door. “Don’t tell me you abandoned Teach in that mess just to come check on us,” he said, but Felix shrugged.

“She can handle herself,” he said. “Besides, I’m sure it would be some kind of diplomatic faux pas if one of us didn’t come over here to greet the next King of Almyra sooner rather than later,” he said, and Khalid flushed.

“You’ve barely been here three minutes,” he responded. “Word’s already traveled that fast?” he asked.

“Practically everyone who came up to me and the Professor were asking us if we already knew about it or not,” Felix responded. “Quite a surprise you decided to spring on us, Prince. You could have sent us a letter in warning,” he said. Khalid gave a light chuckle.

“Nah, you know me. I prefer surprises,” he said. Dimitri knew that the real reason Khalid hadn’t sent a letter was because he feared the backlash. He trusted Byleth, of course. But if a letter like that had been intercepted by the wrong hands, who knew what might have happened? This nice celebration ball with all its nameless servants and ambitious nobles would have been the prime opportunity for an assassination attempt. Khalid had every reason to be paranoid about such things, Dimitri remembered. And that thought made him draw Khalid back against his side as Felix quirked his brow.

“Ah, so I see you two have finally sorted yourselves out,” he said, and Dimitri gave a breathless laugh.

“Was it so obvious?” he asked. Felix shook his head.

“It was to everyone but you,” he said. “Should I take this to mean that you’ll be going with him to Almyra, boar?” he questioned.

“Of course I am,” Dimitri said. “You and the Empress have things well in hand. Faerghus is no longer in need of a king. I entrust our Kingdom to you,” he said. Those words made Felix crack a small smile.

“Well… all right, then,” he said. Another server came by and Felix picked up a goblet of wine to sip from. He looked back to Khalid. “I expect we’ll be hearing from you after your coronation?” he asked. Khalid nodded earnestly.

“Yes,” he said. “If I plan to make this world the place I dream it to be, it starts with open borders between Fodlan and Almyra. It’s my dream for our people to be as one,” he said. “It all starts tonight. Things are already going so much better than I imagined they would.” Dimitri offered Khalid a reassuring smile and Felix offered him a small toast with the goblet he held in hand.

“You’ve got a way about you, Riegan,” Felix said. “You make it almost impossible for people to dislike you. It’s a little infuriating,” he said, and Khalid chuckled. He gave Felix a small wink, in response to which the Empress’ husband rolled his eyes. “See? That’s exactly what I mean,” he said. He shook his head. “You’ll do fine in Almyra,” he said. “Both of you. But listen, Riegan. If anything happens to the boar while you’re there…”

“I know, I know. The fact that it would be an international incident wouldn’t stop you from having my head,” Khalid said, and Felix grunted. Dimitri found himself surprised. Since when had Felix become protective of him? He supposed that… they were the only two left from the old days, but still, it was quite a thing to see. Felix caught him staring and snarled at him, but Dimitri just smiled in response.

“Thank you, my friend,” Dimitri spoke, and Felix huffed.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he said. It was at that moment when the band began to strike up a tune, and Felix lifted his head. “Ah, that’s my cue. Time to go save the Professor from all her adoring fans. I’ll see you two around,” he said. With that, Felix took his leave of them and plucked Byleth from the crowd to lead her to the dance floor. Looking down, Dimitri offered Khalid his arm.

“Shall we?” he asked, and Khalid smiled. He took their goblets and handed them off to a random servant before wrapping his hands lightly around Dimitri’s arm.

“ _Arh_ , _Dima_ ,” he responded, and Dimitri took him out among the other couples that were gathering. Old friends and unfamiliar faces alike were pairing up, and Dimitri noticed that he and Khalid were not the only same-sex couple among them. It seemed that Caspar and Linhardt had survived the war and the two were making a small scene as Linhardt protested against Caspar all the way onto the floor.

“You’re going to bruise my toes all up, Caspar,” Dimitri could hear the ever-sleepy mage protesting, but Caspar wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. It looked like Ferdinand had made it through the war, too – Dimitri remembered that he had joined the Golden Deer house early. By some miracle he had gotten permission to dance with Flayn, though Dimitri could see Seteth watching them like a hawk from the edge of the floor. Annette and Mercedes were paired up, and Dimitri could see Ashe at the edge of the floor with Cyril, insisting “Come on, friends can dance, too, just one before you have to get back to work,” with a deep blush on both of their faces. Marianne and Lorenz were taking a spot on the floor, too. Dimitri was sure the rest of the Golden Deer house was in attendance as well, even if they weren’t out dancing. Seeing everyone that _was_ there, though, only made him think of those that weren’t…

“Hey,” Khalid called him, and Dimitri looked down. And then, he could look nowhere else, because Khalid was smiling up at him and his eyes were practically sparkling. “Are you ready? They’re about to begin,” he said. “Lead me well, all right? I never learned all of the dances of Fodlan, so please…”

Dimitri brought Khalid’s left hand to his shoulder as his right fell onto his partner’s waist. They joined their other hands and Dimitri smiled at him. “I won’t lead you astray,” he promised. The music began. They danced. Khalid spun beautifully, his wrapped tunic fluttering more prettily than any ball gown in Dimitri’s gaze. Just standing next to him made Dimitri feel plain, but that didn’t matter. Khalid _should_ be the most gorgeous sight in the room as far as Dimitri was concerned. When the song reached a crescendo, both of Dimitri’s hands dropped to Khalid’s waist and Khalid grabbed his shoulders and laughed as Dimitri lifted him. He pointed his toes and Dimitri shifted his grip to hold Khalid up with one hand and spun with him and there was a smattering of applause from the people who watched but Dimitri could barely hear it. All that he cared about listening to was the beautiful sound of Khalid’s laughter filling his ears as he slowly and gently brought him back down to earth.

The song ended and most of the dancers turned to clap for the musicians, but Dimitri couldn’t. He had an armful of Khalid, who had immediately sprung at him as soon as the song was over, draping his arms around Dimitri’s neck with an expression of the utmost adoration and love. Dimitri held him close and lowered his head, tilting it slightly so their lips could meet. More dancers were filtering onto the floor now and Dimitri pulled back to smile at Khalid. “Another?” he asked, and Khalid nodded. Seemed he loved dancing with Dimitri as much as Dimitri loved dancing with him.

That was where they ended up spending most of their night – on the dance floor. But when finally Dimitri was sweating and Khalid was out of breath and they made their way back into the crowd, it wasn’t towards the drinks like Dimitri figured. No, Khalid’s fingers were wrapped around his own tightly and he was pulling Dimitri somewhere else. Khalid briefly glanced over his shoulder and offered a wink. “Come away with me, Dima,” he insisted. Dimitri smiled and followed along, wondering what his partner had in mind until he realized that Khalid was taking him to the chapel. He felt his eye widen even more when Khalid turned past it and headed round the side towards the Goddess Tower. Dimitri’s heart beat in his throat.

_No way._

But then, there they were on the steps just as they had been nearly six years ago, hand in hand and looking up at the stars. Khalid was smiling up at him and Dimitri was trying to remember how to breathe. He didn’t want to make assumptions, didn’t want his mind to run away without him. The Goddess knew that he was terrible at reading situations. But there was only one reason he could think of for Khalid to bring him here and the idea made his heart race.

“Dimitri?” Khalid spoke, and Dimitri couldn’t help the giddy grin on his face. Khalid laughed when he saw it. “You know why we’re here, don’t you?” he asked. Dimitri ducked his head and blushed.

“I… may have a guess,” he confessed, and Khalid nodded, turning to face him properly and taking both of Dimitri’s hands in his own.

“Then let me remove all doubt,” he said softly. “Dimitri… six years ago, you and I met here,” he said. “Snuck away from a ball to meet out here under the stars. On that night, we made a promise to one another,” he murmured. “That our secrets would be forever safe with the other, and… and I have never felt safer with anyone else,” he said. He squeezed Dimitri’s fingers. “You were the first person in all of Fodlan to know who I was… the only person that has seen my true face. Even more importantly… you’re the only person in the world I feel safe around when I’m just… _me_.” Khalid beamed up at him. “I… have been alone for quite some time. Even though there have always been people around me, I’ve kept everyone at arm’s distance… but you. And in a lifetime of being alone, it wasn’t until I met you that I ever imagined I might be lonely.”

Khalid took a deep breath and brought Dimitri’s fingers to his lips. Dimitri couldn’t feel the kisses but he could feel the affection. It warmed him from the inside out. “Dimitri, my Dima, I know you have suffered much,” he said. “I know that you’ve been alone, too. And I don’t want that for either of us anymore,” he said. “So, my love, I have to ask you…”

Oh, heaven. Khalid dropped to one knee, and Dimitri had to lean over the slightest bit so that their hands could stay entwined but he didn’t mind that in the least because Khalid was looking up at him with such earnest green eyes.

“Marry me?” Khalid asked, and Dimitri smiled and felt tears on his cheeks. He didn’t leave Khalid in suspense for long, because he was soon sweeping him off the ground and spinning with him in his arms. Khalid laughed and clung to him tightly as Dimitri nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, of course. Of course I will marry you.”

Khalid was still laughing as Dimitri returned his feet to the ground, eyes shining brighter than the stars above as he looked up at Dimitri. “I had hoped you would say yes,” he whispered, and Dimitri kissed him, then. How could he not kiss him? Khalid was the most beautiful, wonderful man in the world. Dimitri _had_ to kiss him. When they broke apart, their smiles matched in magnitude.

“I’ve got something for you,” Khalid said, reaching into the folds of his tunic and producing a ring. It was an emerald set in a wide golden band, something beautiful that wouldn’t look out of place at all on Dimitri’s large hands. Eye still watering, Dimitri removed his left glove and presented his hand to Khalid so he could slip the ring on his finger. “I like this tradition of Fodlan,” Khalid said as he slid the ring in place. “A golden ring that will not tarnish, with no start and no end. Just like love,” he murmured. He looked up at Dimitri and grinned. “When we marry in Almyra, you’ll be floored how many traditions we’ll have to go through…” he murmured. “But I’ll teach you everything you need to know. My love… never leave my side,” he said, and Dimitri nodded.

“I have some things I want to say,” he began quietly, and Khalid held his hands tightly. Looking into his love’s – his fiance’s! – eyes, however, made it hard to speak. There was so much he wanted to say to Khalid. This man who had saved him from the depths of his own personal hell and somehow brought him out of torment, to this? This very same man who had once sang him lullabies when they were both just teens trying to figure out their place in this world, _this_ wonderful angel, now wanted to marry him?

There was so much he wanted to say to Khalid, but all he could manage was a tearful, “Thank you,” as he pulled Khalid close. “Thank you, my beloved,” he sobbed. It was nothing like the grand speech that Khalid had offered him. But it was everything – absolutely everything – that Dimitri needed to say. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Ah, Dima,” Khalid whispered, squirming around in his arms until he managed to climb Dimitri enough to give him a kiss. “Of course, my love. No matter where we go from here, or what the future holds, you and I will never be alone again. We face the path ahead together,” he whispered, and Dimitri nodded. He couldn’t imagine a better future for them than this.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks... that's the end of this one! :D
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, I hope you all enjoyed! Just as I said in the last chapter, I do plan on writing more of these two in the same universe as this story - that three month time skip is pretty intentional, just in case I want to go back and write a one-shot that takes place before this final chapter. And I already have some Almyra stuff written that I'm going to post very soon! Keep an eye out for it!
> 
> Once again, thanks everyone for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, all of that! It makes me indescribably happy. I hope to see you again with whatever I write next!


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